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POEMS WITH POWER 

TO 

STRENGTHEN THE SOUL 



COMPILED AND EDITED BY 

TAMES MUDGE 

Author of 
THE BEST OK BROWNING. ETC. 



REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION 




New York: EATON & MAINS 
Cincinnati: JENNINGS & GRAHAM 



LISRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Oouii's Received 

MAh 25 iya<j) 

CLASS '^ AAc, M,; 

■2-3Z353 



Copyright, 1907, 1909, by 
EATON & MAINS 



K 



J TO ALL 

> WHO ARE AT THE SAME TIME 

LOVEJRS OF GOOD POETRY AND LOVERS OF GOOD CHARACTER, 
DEJvOTED to god and THEIR FELLOW-MEN, AS WELL AS TO 
LITERATURE, THE COMPILER, WHO CLAIMS A LITTLE 

PLACE IN THIS LARGE COMPANY, 
DEDICATES THE RESULT OF HIS PLEASANT LABORS 



1 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PREFACE vii 

SUBJECTS: 

HEROISM — Chivalry, Nobility, Honor, Truth i 

COURAGE — Constancy, Confidence, Strength, Valor 14 

INDEPENDENCE — Manhood, Firmness, Earnestness, Resolution. 22 

GREATNESS — Fame, Success, Progress, Victory 28 

DUTY — Loyalty, Faithfulness, Conscience, Zeal 41 

SERVICE — Usefulness, Benevolence, Labor 50 

BROTHERHOOD — Charity, Sympathy, Example, Influence 66 

CONSECRATION— Submission, Devotion, Purity 79 

PEACE — Rest, Calm, Stillness 88 

HUMILITY — Meekness, Weakness, Selflessness 95 

CONTENTMENT — Resignation, Patience, Compensation 103 

ASPIRATION — Desire, Supplication, Growth 115 

PRAYER — Worship, Communion, Devotion 123 

JOY — Praise, Cheerfulness, Happiness 138 

'■■' AFFLICTION — Consolation, Trial, Endurance 149 

LOVE — Divine Goodness, Unselfishness 163 

HOPE — Progress, Optimism, Enthusiasm 170 

FAITH — Assurance, Doubt, Unbelief 177 

TRUST — Guidance, Safety, Gladness 187 

-' GOD'S CARE — Providence, God's Knowledge and Beneficence... 199 

GOD'S WILL — Obedience, Divine Union 209 

GOD'S PRESENCE — Possession, Satisfaction, Reflection 221 

JESUS — His Preciousness, and Beauty, and Love 233 

LIFE — ^Time, Opportunity, Experience, Character 250 

AGE AND DEATH — Maturity, Victory, Heaven 267 

APPENDIX— MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 278 

INDEX TO AUTHORS 288 

INDEX TO TITLES 292 

INDEX TO FIRST LINES 208 



PREFACE 

This is not like other collections of religious verse; still less is it a hymnal. 
The present volume is directed to a very specific and wholly practical end, the 
production of high personal character; and only those poems which have an im- 
mediate bearing in this direction have been admitted. We know of no other 
book published which has followed this special line. There are fine hymnals, 
deservedly dear to the Church, but they are necessarily devoted in large measure 
to institutional and theological subjects, are adapted to the wants of the general 
congregation and to purposes of song; while many poetical productions that touch 
the heart the closest are for that very reason unsuited to the hymnal. There are 
many anthologies and plentiful volumes of religious poetry, but not one coming 
within our ken has been made up as this has been. We have sought far and wide, 
through many libraries, carefully conning hundreds of books and glancing through 
hundreds more, to find just those lines which would have the most tonic and stimu- 
lating effect in the direction of holier, nobler living. We have coveted verses 
whose influence would be directly on daily life and would help to form the very 
best habits of thought and conduct, which would have intrinsic spiritual value 
and elevating power ; those whose immediate tendency would be to make people 
better, toughening their moral fibre and helping them heavenward; those which 
they could hardly read attentively without feeling an impulse toward the things 
which are pure and true and honorable and lovely and of good report, things 
virtuous and praiseworthy. 

It is surprising to one who has not made the search how very many poets 
there are whose voluminous and popular works yield nothing, or scarcely any- 
thing, of this sort. We have looked carefully through many scores of volumes 
of poetry without finding a line that could be of the slightest use in this collection. 
They were taken up altogether with other topics. They contained many pretty 
conceits, pleasant descriptions, lovely or lively narrations — these in abundance, 
but words that would send the spirit heavenward, or even earthward with any 
added love for humanity, not one. On the other hand, in papers and periodicals, 
even in books, are great multitudes of verses, unexceptionable in sentiment and 
helpful in influence, which bear so little of the true poetic afflatus, are so careless 
in construction or so faulty in diction, so imperfect in rhyme or rhythm, so much 
mingled with colloquialisms or so hopelessly commonplace in thought, as to be 
unworthy of a permanent place in a book like this. They would not bear reading 
many times. They would offend a properly educated taste. They would not so 
capture the ear as to linger on the memory with compelling persistence, nor strike 
the intellect as an exceptional presentation of important truth. The combination 
of fine form and deep or inspiring thought is by no means common, but, when 
found, very precious. We will not claim that this has been secured in all the 
poems here presented. Not all will approve our choice in all respects. There is 

vii 



viii PREFACE 

nothing in which tastes more differ than in matters of this kind. And we will 
admit that in some cases we have let in — because of the important truth which 
they so well voiced — stanzas not fully up to the mark in point of poetic merit. 
Where it has not been possible to get the two desirable things together, as it has 
not always, we have been more solicitous for the sentiment that would benefit 
than for mere prettiness or perfection of form. Helpfulness has been the test 
oftener than a high literary standard. The labored workmanship of the vessel 
has not weighed so much with us as its perfect fitness to convey the water of life 
wherewith the thirsty soul of man has been or may be refreshed. If poets are 
properly judged, as has been alleged, by the frame of mind they induce, then some 
who have not gained great literary fame may still hold up their heads and claim 
a worthy crown. 

Some poems fully within the scope of the book — like Longfellow's "Psalm 
of Life" — have been omitted because of their exceeding commonness and their 
accessibility. Many hymns of very high value — like "Jesus, Lover of my soul," 
"My faith looks up to thee," "Nearer, my God, to thee," "When all thy mercies, 
O my God," "How firm a foundation" — have also been omitted because they 
are found in all the hymnals, and to include them would unduly swell the size of 
the book. A few others, although similarly familiar, like "Jesus, I my cross have 
taken," and "God moves in a mysterious way," have been inserted from a feeling 
that even yet their depth and richness are not properly appreciated and that they 
can never be sufficiently pondered. A few poems we have been unable to 
procure permission to use; but in nearly all cases we have met with most 
generous treatment from both authors and publishers owning copyrights, and we 
take this occasion to express our hearty thanks for the kindness afforded in the 
following instances: 

Houghton, Mifflin & Company, for the use of the poems and stanzas here found 
from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, James Russell Lowell, John Greenleaf 
Whittier, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Edward Rowland 
Sill, Celia Thaxter, Caroline Atherton Mason, Edna Dean Proctor, Edmund 
Clarence Stedman, John Burroughs, John Hay, William Dean Howell s, Harriet 
Beecher Stowe, Lucy Larcom, Margaret E. Sangster, Francis Bret Harte, 
James Freeman Clarke, Samuel Longfellow, Samuel Johnson, Christopher 
Pearse Cranch, Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps and 
John Vance Cheney. 

Little, Brown & Company, for poems by Helen Hunt Jackson, Louise Chandler 
Moulton, William Rounseville Alger, "Susan Coolidge" [Sarah Chauncey 
Woolsey], and John White Chad wick, 

Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Company, for poems by Sam Walter Foss. 

D. Appleton & Company, for poems by William Cullen Bryant, 

T, Y. Crowell & Company, for poems by Sarah Knowles Bolton. 

Charles Scribner's Sons, for poems by Josiah Gilbert Holland. 

The Century Company, for poems by Richard Watson Gilder. 

The Bobbs-Merrill Company, for poems by James Whitcomb Riley, 

Harper & Brothers, for poems by Edward Sandford Martin. 

Small, Ma3Tiard & Co., for poems by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, 



PREFACE 



IX 



The Rev. D. C. Knowles, for poems by Frederic Lawrence Knowles, especially 
from "Love Triumphant," published by Dana, Estes & Company. 

The Rev. Frederic Rowland Marvin, for poems from his "Flowers of Song from 
Many Lands." 

Professor Amos R. Wells, for poems from his "Just to Help." 

Mr. Nixon Waterman, for poems from "In Merry Mood," published by Forbes & 
Co., of Chicago. 

The selections from the above American authors are used by special arrange- 
ments with the firms mentioned, who are the only authorized publishers of their 
works. Many other poems used have been found in papers or other places which 
gave no indication of the original source. In spite of much effort to trace these 
things it is quite likely we have failed in some cases to give due credit or obtain 
the usual permission; and we hope that if such omissions, due to ignorance or 
inadvertence, are noticed they will be pardoned. Many unknown writers have 
left behind them some things of value, but their names have become detached 
from them or perhaps never were appended. Many volumes consulted have 
been long out of print. 

We are glad to record our large indebtedness to the custodians of the Boston, 
Cambridge, Maiden, Natick, Brookline, Jamaica Plain, Somerville, and Newton 
Public Libraries, the Boston Athenaeum, the Congregational Library, the General 
Theological Library, and the Library of Harvard College, for free access to their 
treasures. 

By far the greater part of the contents are from British and other foreign 
authors, such as William Wordsworth, Alfred Tennyson, Robert Browning, Eliza- 
beth Barrett Browning, Dinah Maria Mulock Craik, Mrs. S. F. Adams,Anna Letitia 
Barbauld, Mrs. Charles, Frances Ridley Havergal, Anna Letitia Waring, Jean 
Ingelow, Adelaide Anne Procter, Mme. Guyon, Theodore Monod, Matthew Arnold, 
Edwin Arnold, William Shakespeare, John Milton, George Gordon Byron, Robert 
Bums, William Cowper, George Herbert, Robert Herrick, Francis Quarles, Fred- 
erick W. Faber, John Keble, Charles Kingsley, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison, 
John Gay, Edward Young, Thomas Moore, John Newton, John Bunyan, H. Kirke 
White, Horatius Bonar, James Montgomery, Charles Wesley, Richard Baxter, 
Norman Macleod, George Heber, Richard Chenevix Trench, Henry Alford, Charles 
Mackay, Gerald Massey, Alfred Austin, Robert Louis Stevenson, Arthur Hugh 
Clough, Henry Burton, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Hartley Coleridge, Joseph Anstice, 
George Macdonald, Robert Leighton, John Henry Newman, John Sterling, Edward 
H. Bickersteth, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and many others. Of German authors 
there are not a few, including Johann W. von Goethe, Johann C. F. Schiller, George 
A. Neumarck, Paul Gerhardt, Benjamin Schmolke, S. C. Schoener, Scheffler, 
Karl Rudolf Hagenbach, S. Rodigast, Novalis, Wolfgang C. Dessler, L. Gedicke, 
Martin Luther, and Johann G. von Herder. 

The number of American poets drawn upon is small compared with this 
list. It is the case in all such collections. According to an analysis of the hymns 
contained in the most widely used American hymnals down to 1880 the average 
number of hymns of purely American origin was not quite one in seven ; the pro- 
portion would be a little larger now. And the number of Methodist poets is al- 



X PREFACE 

most nil, in spite of the fact that the compiler is a Methodist and the volume is 
issued from the official Methodist Publishing House. But if we thought that this 
would be any barrier to its wide circulation in Methodist homes we should be 
deeply ashamed for our church. We are confident it will not be. For mere de- 
nominational tenets do not at all enter into these great matters of the soul's life. 
A book like this speaks loudly for the real oneness, not only of all branches of the 
Christian Church, but of all religions, in some respects. Not only do we find the 
various Protestant denominations amply represented here; not only have we 
most inspiring words from Roman Catholic writers like Francis Xavier, Madame 
Guyon, Alexander Pope, John Henry Newman, Frederick W. Faber, and Adelaide 
Anne Procter; but from Mohammedan sotu-ces, from Sufi saints of Persia, and the 
Moslem devotees of Arabia, and even from Hinduism, there are utterances of 
noblest truth which we cannot read without a kindling heart. These are all 
brought together from the ends of the earth into a delightful "upper chamber," 
where the warring discords of opinion cease and an exceedingly precious peace 
prevails. 

It should be said, though it is perhaps hardly necessary, that this is by no 
means a book to be read at a sitting. It furnishes very concentrated nourish- 
ment. It can be taken with largest profit only a little at a time, according as 
the mood demands and circumstances appoint. There should be very much 
meditation mingled with the perusal, an attempt to penetrate the deep meaning 
of the lines and have them enter into the soul for practical benefit. Some of these 
hymns have great histories: they are the war cries of combatants on hard-fought 
battle fields; they are living words of deep experience pressed out of the heart 
by strong feeling; they are the embodiment of visions caught on some Pisgah's 
glowing top. Here will be found and furnished hope for the faint-hearted, rest 
for the weary, courage for the trembling, cheer for the despondent, power for the 
weak, comfort for the afflicted, guidance in times of difficulty, wise counsel for 
moments of perplexity, a stimulant to faithfulness, a ctu"e for the blues, exhila- 
ration, jubilation. Everything of a depressing nature has been scrupulously 
rilled out. The keynote, persistently followed through all the pages, is optimistic, 
bright, buoyant. Trumpet calls and bugle notes are furnished in abundance, 
but no dirges or elegies. Large space, it will be seen, is given to such topics as 
Heroism, True Greatness, the Care and Presence of God, the blessings of Brother- 
liness, the privilege of Service, the path of Peace, the secret of Contentment, 
the mission of Prayer, the joy of Jesus, the meaning of Life, the glory of Love, 
the promise of Faith, the happy aspect of old Age and Death; for these subjects 
come very close home to the heart, and are illustrated in daily experience. Any- 
one who feels a special need in any of these directions is confidently recommended 
to turn to the proper sections and read the selections. 

Very much that is here may easily and suitably be committed to memory, 
that thus it may the more permanently penetrate into the inmost depth of being. 
It may be used with most telling effect in sermons to give point and pungency 
to the thought of the preacher. Alike in popular discourse and public testimony 
or in private meditation these gems of sentiment and thought will come into play 
with great advantage. The benefit which may be derived from them can scarcely 
be overestimated. President Eliot, of Harvard University, has said: "There 



PREFACE 



XI 



are bits of poetry in my mind learned in infancy that have stood by me in keeping 
me true to my ideas of duty and life. Rather than lose these I would have missed 
all the sermons I have ever heard." Many another can say substantially the 
same, can trace his best deeds very largely to the influence of some little stanza 
or couplet early stored away in his memory and coming ever freshly to mind in 
after years as the embodiment of truest wisdom. 

We cannot guarantee in all cases the absolute correctness of the forms of the 
poems given, though much pains have been taken to ensure accuracy; but authors 
themselves make changes in their productions at different times in different 
editions. Nor have we always been able to trace the poem to its source. Slips 
and errors of various kinds can hardly be avoided in such matters. Even so com- 
petent an editor as John G. Whittier, in his "Songs of Three Centuries," ascribes 
"Love divine, all love excelling" to that bitter Calvinist, Augustus M. Toplady, 
giving it as the sole specimen of his verse ; when it was really written by the ardent 
Arminian, Charles Wesley, with whom Toplady was on anything but friendly 
terms. If Whittier could make a blunder of this magnitude we may be pardoned 
if possibly a keen-eyed critic spies something in our book almost as grossly in- 
correct. In some cases we have been obliged to change the titles of poems so as 
to avoid reduplication in our index, or to adapt them the better to the small 
extract taken from the much longer form in the original. In a few cases we have 
made (indicated) alterations in poems to fit them more fully to the purpose of 
the book. 

The volume will be found not only a readable one, we think, but also an 
uncommonly useful one for presentation by those who would do good and give 
gratification to their serious-minded friends with a taste for religious poetry and 
a love for wandering in the "holy land of song." He who would put before 
another the essential elements of religion would do better to give him such a 
book as this than a treatise on theology. He who would himself get a clear idea 
of what the religious life really is will do better to pore over these pages than to 
dip into some philosophical discussion. Here the best life is expressed rather 
than analyzed, exhibited rather than explained. Mrs. Browning has well said, 
" Plant a poet's word deep enough in any man's breast, looking presently for off- 
shoots, and you have done more for the man than if you dressed him in a broad- 
cloth coat and warmed his Stmday pottage at your fire." We who, by preparing 
or circulating such volumes, aid the poets in finding a larger circle to whom to 
give their message, may claim a part of the blessing which comes to those who 
in any way aid humanity. George Herbert has said, 

**A verse may find him who a sermon flies, 
And turn delight into a sacrifice." 

He himself most excellently illustrated the sentiment by bequeathing to the 
world many beautiful verses that are sermons of the most picturesque sort. 

One definition of poetry is " a record of the best thoughts and best moments 
of the best and happiest minds." This in itself would almost be sufficient to 
establish the connection between poetry and religion. It is certain that the two 
have very close and vital relations. Dr. Washington Gladden has admirably 



xu 



PREFACE 



remarked, "Poetry is indebted to religion for its largest and loftiest inspirations, 
and religion is indebted to poetry for its subtlest and most luminous interpreta- 
tions." No doubt a man may be truly, deeply religious who has little or no de- 
velopment on the aesthetic side, to whom poetry makes no special appeal. But it is 
certain that he whose soul is deaf to the "concord of sweet sounds" misses a mighty 
aid in the spiritual life. For a hymn is a wing by which the spirit soars above 
earthly cares and trials into a purer air and a clearer sunshine. Nothing can 
better scatter the devils of melancholy and gloom or doubt and fear. When praise 
and prayer, trust and love, faith and hope, and similar sentiments, have passed 
into and through some poet's passionate soul, until he has become so charged 
with them that he has been able to fix them in a form of expression where beauty 
is united to strength, where concentration and ornamentation are alike secured, 
then the deepest needs of great numbers are fully met. What was vague and 
dim is brought into light. What was only half conceived, and so but half felt, 
is made to grip the soul with power. Poetry is of the very highest value for the 
inspiration and guidance of life, for calling out the emotions and opening up 
spiritual visions. It carries truths not only into the understanding, but into the 
heart, where they are likely to have the most direct effect on conduct. 

In the language of Robert Southey, I commit these pages to the Christian 
public, with a sincere belief that much benefit will result to all who shall read 

them: 

"Go forth, little book, from this my solitude; 

I cast thee on the waters, — go thy ways; 
And if, as I believe, thy vein be good. 

The world will find thee after many days. 
Be it with thee according to thy worth; 
Go, little book! in faith I send thee forth." 

James Mudge. 
Maiden, Mass. 



HEROISM 

CHIVALRY, NOBILITY, HONOR, TRUTH 



THE INEVITABLE 

I like the man who faces what he 
must, 
With step triumphant and a heart 

of cheer; 
Who fights the daily battle without 
fear; 
Sees his hopes fail, yet keeps tinfalter- 

ing trust 
That God is God; that somehow, true 
and just, 
His plans work out for mortals ; not 

a tear 
Is shed when fortune, which the 
world holds dear. 
Falls from his grasp: better, with love, 
a crust 
Than living in dishonor: envies 
not, 
Nor loses faith in man; but does his 
best. 
Nor ever murmurs at his humbler 
lot. 
But, with a smile and words of hope, 
gives zest 
To every toiler: he alone is great 
Who by a life heroic conquers fate. 
— Sarah Knowles Bolton. 



DEFEATED YET TRIUMPHANT 

They never fail who die 

In a great cause. The block may soak 
their gore; 

Their heads may sodden in the sun; 
their limbs 

Be strung to city gates and castle walls ; 

But still their spirit walks abroad. 
Though years 

Elapse and others share as dark a doom, 

They but augment the deep and sweep- 
ing thoughts 

Which overpower all others and con- 
duct 

The world, at last, to freedom. 

— George Gordon Byron. 



A HERO GONE 

He has done the work of a true man — ■ 
Crown him, honor him, love him; 

Weep over him, tears of woman, 
Stoop, manliest brows, above him! 

For the warmest of hearts is frozen; 

The freest of hands is still; 
And the gap in our picked and chosen 

The long years may not fill. 

No duty could overtask him, 

No need his will outrun: 
Or ever our lips could ask him. 

His hands the work had done. 

He forgot his own life for others. 
Himself to his neighbor lending. 

Found the Lord in his suffering brothers. 
And not in the clouds descending. 

And he saw, ere his eye was darkened. 
The sheaves of the harvest-bringing ; 

And knew, while his ear yet hearkened. 
The voice of the reapers singing. 

Never rode to the wrong's redressing 

A worthier paladin. 
He has heard the Master's blessing, 

"Good and faithful, enter in!" 

— John Greenleaf Whittier. 



THE CHARGE 

They outtalked thee, hissed thee, tore 

thee? 
Better men fared thus before thee; 
Fired their ringing shot and pass'd, 
Hotly charged — and sank at last. 
Charge once more, then, and be dumb! 
Let the victors, when they come, 
When the forts of folly fall. 
Find thy body by the wall! 

— Matthew Arnold. 



HEROISM 



THE REFORMER 

Before the monstrous wrong he sets him 

down — 
One man against a stone-walled city of 

sin. 
For centuries those walls have been a- 

building; 
Smooth porphyry, they slope and coldly 

glass 
The flying storm and wheeling sun. No 

chink, 
No crevice, lets the thinnest arrow 

in. 
He fights alone, and from the cloudy 

ramparts 
A thousand evil faces gibe and jeer 

him. 
Let him lie down and die: what is the 

right. 
And where is justice, in a world like 

this? 
But by and by earth shakes herself, 

impatient ; 
And down, in one great roar of ruin, 

crash 
Watch-tower and citadel and battle- 
ments. 
When the red dust has cleared, the 

lonely soldier 
Stands with strange thoughts beneath 

the, friendly stars. 

— Edward Rowland Sill. 



LIFE AND DEATH 

So he died for his faith. That is fine — 

More than most of us do. 
But, say, can you add to that line 

That he lived for it, too? 
In his death he bore witness at last 

As a martyr to truth. 
Did his life do the same in the past 

From the days of his youth? 
It is easy to die. Men have died 

For a wish or a whim — 
From bravado or passion or pride. 

Was it harder for him? 
But to live — every day to live out 

All the truth that he dreamt. 
While his friends met his conduct with 
doubt 

And the world with contempt. 
Was it thus that he plodded ahead, 

Never turning aside? 
Then we'll talk of the life that he lived. 

Never mind how he died. 

— Ernest Crosby. 



THE RED PLANET MARS 

The star of the unconquered will, 

He rises in my breast, 
Serene, and resolute, and still. 

And calm, and self-possessed. 

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art. 
That readest this brief psalm. 

As one by one thy hopes depart. 
Be resolute and calm. 

Oh, fear not in a world like tk:s, 
And thou shalt know erelong, — 

Know how sublime a thing it is 
To suffer and be strong. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



THE NOBLE ARMY OP MARTYRS 
PRAISE THEE 

Not they alone who from the bitter 
strife 
Came forth victorious, yielding wil- 
lingly 
That which they deem most precious, 
even life, 
Content to suffer all things, Christ, 
for Thee; 
Not they alone whose feet so firmly trod 
The pathway ending in rack, sword 
and flame. 
Foreseeing death, yet faithful to their 
Lord, 
Enduring for His sake the pain and 
shame ; 
Not they alone have won the martyr's 

palm, 
Not only from their life proceeds the 
eternal psalm. 

For earth hath martyrs now, a saintly 
throng; 
Each day unnoticed do we pass them 
by; 
'Mid busy crowds they calmly move 
along. 
Bearing a hidden cross, how 
patiently! 
Not theirs the sudden anguish, swift 
and keen, 
Their hearts are worn and wasted 
with small cares, 
With daily griefs and thrusts from foes 
unseen ; 
Troubles and trials that take them 
unawares ; 
Theirs is a lingering, silent martyrdom; 
They weep through weary years, and 
long for rest to come. 



HEROISM 



They weep, but murmur not; it is 
God's will, 
And they have learned to bend their 
own to his; 
Simply enduring, knowing that each ill 
Is but the herald of some future bliss ; 
Striving and sioffering, yet so silently 
They know it least who seem to 
know them best. 
Faithful and true through long ad- 
versity 
They work and wait vmtil God gives 
them rest; 
These surely share with those of by- 
gone days 
The palm-branch and the crown, and 
swell their song of praise. 



THE HAPPY WARRIOR 

'Tis, finally, the man, who, lifted high. 
Conspicuous object in a nation's eye, 
Or left tmthought of in obscurity. 
Who, with a toward or untoward lot. 
Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or 

not, — 
Plays, in the many games of life, that 

one 
Where what he most doth value must 

be won; 
Whom neither shape of danger can 

dismay. 
Nor thought of tender happiness betray ; 
Who, not content that former work 

stand fast. 
Looks forward, persevering to the last. 
From well to better, daily self-surpast ; 
Who, whether praise of him must walk 

the earth 
Forever, and to noble deeds give birth. 
Or he must fall, to sleep without his 

fame. 
And leave a dead, unprofitable name — 
Finds comfort in himself and in his 

cause, 
And, while the mortal mist is gathering, 

draws 
His breath in confidence of Heaven's 

applause : 
This is the happy warrior ; this is he 
That every man in arms should wish 

to be. — William Wordsworth. 



Around the man who seeks a noble end 
Not angels but divinities attend. 

— Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



ROBERT BROWNING'S MESSAGE 

Grow old along with me! 

The best is yet to be. 

The last of Kfe, for which the first was 

made; 
Otir times are in His hand 
Who saith, "A whole I planned, 
Youth shows but half; trust God: see 

all, nor be afraid!" 



Poor vaunt of life indeed. 

Were man but formed to feed 

On joy, to solely seek and find and 

feast ; 
Such feasting ended, then 
As sure an end to men: 
Irks care the crop-full bird? Frets 

doubt the maw-crammed beast? 



Then welcome each rebuff 

That turns earth's smoothness rough, 

Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, 

but go! 
Be otu- joys three parts pain! 
Strive, and hold cheap the strain; 
Learn, nor account the pang; dare, 

never grudge the throe! 

For thence — a paradox 

Which comforts while it mocks — 

Shall life succeed in that it seems to 

fail: 
What I aspired to be. 
And was not, comforts me: 
A brute I might have been, but would 

not sink i' the scale. 



Not on the vulgar mass 
Called "work" must sentence pass. 
Things done, that took the eye and 
had the price; 
O'er which, from level stand. 
The low world laid its hand. 

Found straightway to its mind, 
could value in a trice: 



But all, the world's coarse thumb 
And finger failed to plumb, 

So passed in making up the main 
account ; 
All instincts immature, 
All purposes unsure. 

That weighed not as his work, yet 
swelled the man's amount: 



HEROISM 



Thoughts hardly to be packed 
Into a narrow act, 

Fancies that broke through language 
and escaped; 
All I could never be, 
All, men ignored in me. 

This I was worth to God, whose 
wheel the pitcher shaped. 

Fool! All that is, at all. 
Lasts ever, past recall; 

Earth changes, but thy soul and 
God stand sure: 
What entered into thee 
That was, is, and shall be : 

Time's wheel runs back or stops ; 
Potter and clay endure. 

— From "Rabbi Ben Ezra." 



TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD 

Once to every man and nation comes 

the moment to decide. 
In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, 

for the good or evil side; 
Some great cause, God's new Messiah, 

offering each the bloom or blight. 
Parts the goats upon the left hand, and 

the sheep upon the right, 
And the choice goes by forever 'twixt 

that darkness and that light. 

Careless seems the great Avenger; 

history's pages but record 
One death-grapple in the darkness 

'twixt old systems and the Word; 
Truth forever on the scaffold. Wrong 

forever on the throne — 
Yet that scaffold sways the future, and, 

behind the dim unknown, 
Standeth God within the shadow, 

keeping watch above his own. 

Then to side with Truth is noble when 

we share her wretched crust. 
Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and 

'tis prosperous to be just; 
Then it is the brave man chooses, while 

the coward stands aside, 
Doubting in his abject spirit, till his 

Lord is crucified. 
And the multitude make virtue of the 

faith they had denied. 

Count me o'er earth's chosen heroes — 
they were souls that stood alone 

While the men they agonized for hurled 
the contumelious stone; 



Stood serene, and down the future saw 

the golden beam incline 
To the side of perfect justice, mastered 

by their faith divine. 
By one man's plain truth to manhood 

and to God's supreme design. 

By the light of burning heretics Christ's 

bleeding feet I track, 
Toiling up new Calvaries ever with the 

cross that turns not back, 
And these mounts of anguish number 

how each generation learned 
One new word of that grand Credo which 

in prophet-hearts hath burned 
Since the first man stood God-conquered 

with his face to heaven upturned. 

For Humanity sweeps onward: where 

to-day the martyr stands. 
On the morrow crouches Judas with the 

silver in his hands; 
Far in front the cross stands ready and 

the crackling fagots bum. 
While the hooting mob of yesterday in 

silent awe return 
To glean up the scattered ashes into 

History's golden urn. 

'Tis as easy to be heroes as to sit the idle 

slaves 
Of a legendary virtue carved upon our 

fathers' graves; 
Worshipers of light ancestral make the 

present light a crime ; — 
Was the Mayflower launched by cowards, 

steered by men behind their time ? 
Turn those tracks toward Past or Future 

that make Plymouth Rock sublime ? 

They have rights who dare maintain 
them; we are traitors to our sires. 

Smothering in their holy ashes Free- 
dom's new-lit altar-fires; 

Shall we make their creed our jailer? 
shall we in our haste to slay. 

From the tombs of the old prophets 
steal the funeral lamps away 

To light up the martyr- fagots round the 
prophets of to-day? 

New occasions teach new duties; Time 

makes ancient good uncouth; 
They must upward still, and onward, 

who would keep abreast of Truth; 
Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires! we 

ourselves must Pilgrims be, 
Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly 

through the desperate winter sea. 
Nor attempt the Future's portal with 

the Past's blood-rusted key. 

James Russell Lowell. 



HEROISM 



COLUMBUS 

Behind him lay the gray Azores, 

Behind the Gates of Hercules; 
Before him not the ghost of shores, 

Before him only shoreless seas. 
The good mate said: "Now, we must 
pray, 

For lo! the very stars are gone. 
Speak, Admiral, what shall I say?" 

"Why say, 'Sail on! sail on! and on!' " 

"My men grow mutinous day by day; 

ftly men grow ghastly wan and weak." 
The stout mate thought of home; a 
spray 

Of salt wave washed his swarthy 
cheek. 
"What shall I say, brave Admiral, say, 

If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" 
" Why, you shall say at break of day, 

'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!' " 



They sailed and sailed, as winds might 
blow. 
Until at last the blanched mate said: 
"Why, now not even God would know 

Should I and all my men fall dead. 
These very winds forget their way, 
For God from these dread seas is 
gone. 
Now speak, brave Admiral, speak and 
say — " 
He said, "Sail on! sail on! and on! " 

They sailed. They sailed. Then spoke 
the mate: 

"This mad sea shows its teeth to- 
night. 
He curls his lip, he lies in wait. 

With lifted teeth, as if to bite! 
Brave Admiral, say but one good word. 

What shall we do when hope is gone ? " 
The words leapt as a leaping sword, 

"Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!" 



Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck. 
And peered through darkness. Ah, 
that night 
Of all dark nights! And then a speck — 

A light! A light! A light! 
It grew, a starlit flag unfurled ! 

It grew to be Time's burst of dawn: 
He gained a world; he gave that 
world 
Its grandest lesson: " On, and on! " 
— ^Joaquin Miller. 



THE CHOSEN FEW 

The Son of God goes forth to war, 

A kingly crown to gain; 
His blood-red banner streams afar; 

Who follows in his train? 
Who best can drink His cup of woe, 

And triumph over pain, 
Who patient bears His cross below — 

He follows in His train. 
A glorious band, the chosen few, 

On whom the Spirit came; 
Twelve valiant saints, their hope they 
knew. 

And mocked the cross and flame. 
They climbed the dizzy steep to heaven 

Through peril, toil and pain ; 
O God! to us may grace be given 

To follow in their train! 

— Reginald Heber. 



HOW DID YOU DIE? 

Did you tackle that trouble that came 
your way 
With a resolute heart and cheerful. 
Or hide your face from the light of day 

With a craven soul and fearful? 
O, a trouble is a ton, or a trouble is an 
ounce. 
Or a trouble is what you make it, 
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt 
that counts. 
But only — how did you take it? 

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, 
what's that? 
Come up with a smiling face. 
It's nothing against you to fall down flat. 

But to Tie there — that's disgrace. 

The harder you're thrown, why, the 

higher you botmce; 

Be proud of your blackened eye! 

It isn't the fact that you're licked that 

counts ; 

It's how did you fight — and why? 

And though you be done to the death, 
what then? 
If you battled the best you could. 
If you played your part in the world 
of men, 
Why, the Critic will call it good. 
Death comes with a crawl or comes with 
a pounce, 
And whether he's slow or spry. 
It isn't the fact that you're dead that 
counts, 
But only — how did you die? 

— Edmund Vance Cooke. 



HEROISM 



LUTHER 

That which he knew he uttered, 

Conviction made him strong; 
And with undaunted courage 

He faced and fought the wrong. 
No power on earth could silence hiin 

Whom love and faith made brave; 
And though four hundred years have 
gone 

Men strew with flowers his grave. 

A frail child bom to poverty, 

A German miner's son; 
A poor monk searching in his cell, 

What honors he has won! 
The nations crown him faithful, 

A man whom truth made free; 
God give us for these easier times 

More men as real as he! 

— Marianne Famingham. 



THE MARTYRS 

Flung to the heedless winds. 

Or on the waters cast. 
The martyrs' ashes, watched. 

Shall gathered be at last ; 
And from that scattered dust. 

Around us and abroad. 
Shall spring a plenteous seed 

Of witnesses for God. 



The Father hath received 
Their latest living breath; 

And vain is Satan's boast 
Of victory in their death; 

Still, still, though dead, they speak, 
And, trumpet-ton gued, proclaim 

To many a wakening land. 
The one availing name. 

— Martin Luther, tr. by John A. Mes- 
senger. 



Stainless soldier on the walls, 

Knowing this — and knows no more — 
Whoever fights, whoever falls. 

Justice conquers evermore. 

Justice after as before; 
And he who battles on her side, 

God, though he were ten times slain, 
Crowns him victor glorified, 

Victor over death and pain. 

— Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



ETERNAL JUSTICE 

The man is thought a knave, or fool, 

Or bigot, plotting crime. 
Who, for the advancement of his 
kind. 

Is wiser than his time. 
For him the hemlock shall distil; 

For him the axe be bared; 
For him the gibbet shall be built; 

For him the stake prepared. 
Him shall the scorn and wrath of men 

Pursue with deadly aim; 
And malice, envy, spite, and lies, 

Shall desecrate his name. 
But Truth shall conquer at the last, 

For rotind and round we run; 
And ever the Right comes uppermost. 

And ever is Justice done. 



Pace through thy cell, old Socrates, 

Cheerily to and fro; 
Trust to the impulse of thy soul. 

And let the poison flow. 
They may shatter to earth the lamp 
of clay 

That holds a light divine, 
Bvit they cannot quench the fire of 
thought 

By any such deadly wine. 
They cannot blot thy spoken words 

From the memory of man 
By all the poison ever was brewed 

Since time its course began. 
To-day abhorred, to-morrow adored. 

For round and round we run, 
And ever the Truth comes uppermost, 

And ever is Justice done. 



Plod in thy cave, gray anchorite; 

Be wiser than thy peers; 
Augment the range of human power, 

And trust to coming years. 
They may call thee wizard, and monk 
accursed, 

And load thee with dispraise; 
Thou wert bom five hundred years too 
soon 

For the comfort of thy days; 
But not too soon for human kind. 

Time hath reward in store; 
And the demons of our sires become 

The saints that we adore. 
The blind can see, the slave is lord, 

So roimd and round we run; 
And ever the Wrong is proved to be 
wrong 

And ever is Justice done. 



HEROISM 



Keep, Galileo, to thy thought, 
And nerve thy sotil to bear; 
They may gloat o'er the senseless 
words they wring 
From the pangs of thy despair; 
They may veil their eyes, but they 
cannot hide 
The sun's meridian glow; 
The heel of a priest may tread thee 
down 
And a tyrant work thee woe; 
But never a truth has been destroyed; 
They may curse it and call it crime; 
Pervert and betray, or slander and 
slay 
Its teachers for a time. 
But the sunshine aye shall light the 
sky, 
As round and round we run; 
And the Truth shall ever come upper- 
most, 
And Justice shall be done. 

And live there now such men as these — 

With thoughts like the great of old? 
Many have died in their misery, 

And left their thought untold; 
And many live, and are ranked as mad, 

And are placed in the cold world's 
ban. 
For sending their bright, far-seeing 
souls 

Three centuries in the van. 
They toil in penury and grief. 

Unknown, if not maligned; 
Forlorn, forlorn, bearing the scorn 

Of the meanest of mankind! 
But yet the world goes round and round, 

And the genial seasons run; 
And ever the Truth comes uppermost, 

And ever is Justice done. 

— Charles Mackay. 



We cannot kindle when we will 
The fire which in the heart resides. 

The spirit bloweth and is still; 
In mystery our soul abides: 

But tasks in hours of insight willed 

Can be through hours of gloom fulfilled. 

With aching hands and bleeding feet 
We dig and heap, lay stone on stone; 
We bear the burden and the heat 
Of the long day, and wish 'twere 
done. 
Not till the hours of light return, 
All we have built do we discern. 

— Matthew Arnold. 



WHAT MAKES A HERO? 

What makes a hero? — not success, not 

fame. 
Inebriate merchants, and the loud 
acclaim 
Of glutted avarice — caps tossed up 

in air. 
Or pen of journalist with flourish 
fair; 
Bells pealed, stars, ribbons, and a 
titular name — 
These, though his rightful tribute, 
he can spare; 
His rightful tribute, not his end or aim. 
Or true reward; for never yet did 

these 
Refresh the soul, or set the heart at 
ease. 
What makes a hero? — An heroic mind, 
Expressed in action, in endurance 
proved. 
And if there be preeminence of right. 
Derived through pain well suffered, 
to the height 
Of rank heroic, 'tis to bear unmoved 
Not toil, not risk, not rage of sea or 

wind. 
Not the brute fury of barbarians blind, 
But worse — ingratitude and poison- 
ous darts. 
Launched by the country he had 
served and loved. 
This, with a free, unclouded spirit pure. 
This, in the strength of silence to en- 
dure, 
A dignity to noble deeds imparts 
Beyond the gauds and trappings of 

renown ; 
This is the hero's complement and 
crown; 
This missed, one struggle had been 

wanting still — 
One glorious triumph of the heroic will. 
One self-approval in his heart of 
hearts. 

^Henry Taylor. 



As the bird trims her to the gale 

I trim myself to the storm of time; 
I man the rudder, reef the sail, 

Obey the voice at eve obeyed at 
prime ; 
"Lowly faithful banish fear. 

Right onward drive unharmed; 
The port, well worth the cruise, is near, 

And every wave is charmed." 

— Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



HEROISM 



DEMAND FOR MEN 

The world wants men — large-hearted, 
manly men; 

Men who shall join its chorus and pro- 
long 

The psalm of labor, and the psalm of 
love. 

The times want scholars — scholars who 
shall shape 

The doubtful destinies of dubious 
years. 

And land the ark that bears our coun- 
try's good 

Safe on some peaceful Ararat at last. 

The age wants heroes — heroes who 
shall dare 

To struggle in the solid ranks of truth; 

To clutch the monster error by the 
throat ; 

To bear opinion to a loftier seat; 

To blot the era of oppression out, 

And lead a universal freedom on. 

And heaven wants souls — fresh and 
capacious souls; 

To taste its raptures, and expand, like 
flowers, 

Beneath the glory of its central sun. 

It wants fresh souls — not lean and 
shrivelled ones; 

It wants fresh souls, my brother, give 
it thine. 

If thou indeed wilt be what scholars 
should ; 

If thou wilt be a hero, and wilt strive 

To help thy fellow and exalt thy- 
self. 

Thy feet at last shall stand on jasper 
floors ; 

Thy heart, at last, shall seem a thousand 
hearts — 

Each single heart with myriad raptures 
filled— 

While thou shalt sit with princes and 
with kings. 

Rich in the jewel of a ransomed soul. 



Blessed are they who die for God, 
And earn the martyr's crown of 
light; 
Yet he who lives for God may be 
I A greater conqueror in his sight. 



Better to stem with heart and hand 
The roaring tide of life than lie, 

Unmindful, on its flowery strand, 
Of God's occasions drifting by! 



TRUTH 

Truth will prevail, though men abhor 

The glory of its light; 
And wage exterminating war 

And put all foes to flight. 

Though trodden under foot of men, 
Truth from the dust will spring, 

And from the press — the lip — the pen — 
In tones of thunder ring. 

Beware — ^beware, ye who resist 
The light that beams around, 

Lest, ere you look through error's mist, 
Truth strike you to the ground. 

— D. C. Colesworthy. 



TO A REFORMER 

Nay, now, if these things that you 
yearn to teach 
Bear wisdom, in your judgment, rich 
and strong. 
Give voice to them though no man 
heed your speech. 
Since right is right though all the 
world go wrong. 

The proof that you believe what you 
declare 
Is that you still stand firm though 
throngs pass by; 
Rather cry truth a lifetime to void air 
Than flatter listening millions with 
one lie! — Edgar Fawcett. 



TEACH ME THE TRUTH 

Teach me the truth, Lord, though it 
put to flight 
My cherished dreams and fondest 
fancy's play; 
Give me to know the darkness from 
the light, 

The night from day. 

Teach me the truth. Lord, though my 
heart may break 
In casting out the falsehood for the 
true; 
Help me to take my shattered life and 
make 

Its actions new. 



HEROISM 



Teach me the truth, Lord, though my 
feet may fear 
The rocky path that opens out to me ; 
Rough it may be, but let the way be 
clear 

That leads to thee. 

Teach me the truth. Lord. When 
false creeds decay. 
When man-made dogmas vanish 
with the night, 
Then, Lord, on thee my darkened soul 
shall stay, 

Thou living Light. 

— Frances Lockwood Green. 



HEROISM 



It takes great strength to train 
To modem service your ancestral 

brain ; 
To lift the weight of the unnumbered 

years 
Of dead men's habits, methods, and 

ideas ; 
To hold that back with one hand, and 

support 
With the other the weak steps of the 

new thought. 

It takes great strength to bring your 

life up square 
With your accepted thought and hold 

it there; 
Resisting the inertia that drags back 
From new attempts to the old habit's 

track. 
It is so easy to drift back, to sink; 
So hard to live abreast of what you 

think. 

It takes great strength to live where 

you belong 
When other people think that you are 

wrong; 
People you love, and who love you, and 

whose 
Approval is a pleasure you would 

choose. 
To bear this pressure and succeed at 

length 
In living your belief — well, it takes 

strength. 

And courage, too. But what does 

courage mean 
Save strength to help you face a pain 

foreseen ? 



Courage to undertake this lifelong 
strain 

Of setting yours against your grand- 
sire's brain; 

Dangerous risk of walking lone and 
free 

Out of the easy paths that used to be. 

And the fierce pain of hurting those 
we love 

When love meets truth, and truth 
must ride above. 



But the best courage man has ever 

shown 
Is daring to cut loose and think alone. 
Dark are the unlit chambers of clear 

space 
Where light shines back from no re- 
flecting face. 
Our Sim's wide glare, our heaven's 

shining blue, 
We owe to fog and dust they fumble 

through ; 
And our rich wisdom that we treasure 

so 
Shines from the thousand things that 

we don't know. 
But to think new — it takes a cotirage 

grim 
As led Columbus over the world's 

rim. 
To think it cost some courage. And 

to go — 
Try it. It takes every power you 

know. 

It takes great love to stir the human 

heart 
To live beyond the others and apart. 
A love that is not shallow, is not small. 
Is not for one or two, but for them 

all. 
Love that can wound love for its higher 

need; 
Love that can leave love, though the 

heart may bleed; 
Love that can lose love, family and 

friend. 
Yet steadfastly live, loving, to the 

end. 
A love that asks no answer, that can 

live 
Moved by one burning, deathless 

force — to give. 
Love, strength, and courage; cotirage, 

strength, and love. 
The heroes of all time are built thereof. 
— Charlotte Perkins Stetson, 



lO 



HEROISM 



TO TRUTH 

() Rliir of Irtilli down shininj^ 

Tlirou^li clotnls of ili)>il)( mikI ft';ir, 
I asU l)iit 'iK'iilli yo<ii' )^Mii<Jam"o 

My palhway may appear. 
I liiwi'vti' loiij; (lie joiiriu'V 

How haul socVr it lie, 
Tlioii);li I 1h" loiif .'iiid weary, 

Lead on, I'll follow tlieo. 

I know Ihy Messed radiaiwe 

("an never lead astray, 
However iHieienI, ensloni 

May Irend some oilier way. 
lO'en \( (liroii>;li tnilried dtseils. 

Or over IraeUless St'ii, 
Tlion);h 1 Ih' lone aiul \\'eaiv, 

Lead on, I'll follow (Iuh'. 

Tho hlocdinjf feel, of martyrs 

Thy Idilsome road have (lod. 
Htit tires of hnniaii passioti 

May lij^lit tiie way to (lod. 
Then, thonj;h my feel, shotild fidter, 

\Vliil<' 1 thy beams ean s<'e, 
riionj;li I he lone and weary, 

Lead on, I'll follow thee. 

Thini);h loxiii); friends forsal<<> me. 

Or plt>ad with me in teais — 
Thonj;h anyjry foes may threaten 

To shaki' my soni with fears — 
Still to my \\\y\h alle>.;ianee 

I nmsl not faitliless he. 
Thronv.h life or death, lon'ver, 

Lead oil, I'll follow thee. 

— Minot J. Savu);[i\ 



NOIU.ICSSIC OMI.KH': 

Not. otns nobility of this world's >.;'^''".U 
(Ir.'inted by monarehs of some i>arthly 
throne; 
Not (his life only which is worth the 
livinjj. 
Nor honor here worth slrivini' for 
alone. 

I'rinees are we, and of a line rij;ht royal; 
ll(Mrs ar<" we t>f a j;loiions n-alm 
above ; 
Yet lH>nnd ((< .serviet" hmnble, triie, and 
loyal. 
For (hns eonslraineth ns onr Mon- 
areh's love. 



And lookinjj (o the joy (hat lies before 
us, 
The crown held onl to our oiue f.dlen 
race ; 
i,«'d by (he li};ht (hat ever shineth o'er 
us, 
Man is restored (o n.iture's noblest 
I)laee. 

Noblcsso o/>/ii,'<'— (om- very watchword 
,. Iw it I) 

To raise the fallen fiom (his low 
estate, 
i'o boldly combat wroii),; whene'er wo 
see i(. 
To render j;ood for evil, love for hate. 

,V(i/>/c.v.vr oblifie — to tieeds of valiant 
diirinj^j 
In alien lands which other lords obey, 
And into farthest climes our standanl 
bearinj,'. 
To lead (hem cap(ive 'i\eath om' 
Masti'r's sway. 

iVo/i/cv.vc t>hlii^c — that, jj[rudj;inK ""' <>'"• 
treasure, 
Nor ,scekinj.j jiny portioti {a withhold, 
\\\' fi-eely j^ive it, w^ithout stint or 
nu"asnre, 
Whate'cr it lu" — our talents, time, or 
K*'ld. 

Nohlcssc oNifir — that, lookinj^ tipward 
ever, 
We serve onr KiiiK with cour,Mj;c, 
faitli, and love. 
Till, throtij^'h that vjraee which c.in from 
death deliver, 
Wc claim our noble heritaj^e above! 



OUR lll'ROICS 

The winds that once the ;\reo bore 
llavt< <lic<l by N<'p(tme s ruintil 
shrines, 
,\nd her hull is the drift (>f (he det'p 
sj>a door. 
Thouj;l» shaped of relion's tallest 
pines. 
Von may .seek her crew in every isle, 

h'air in the foam of .-Ki^wm .seas. 
Hut (Mit of their sleep no charm can 
wile 
jason and Ori>h(-\is and Hercules. 



HEROISM 



zi 



And Priuin's voim is liciinl no iiiuiti 
Hy wiiuly llliimr« siii-hiiill. vvnil;; ; 
p'roin llw wiiKliiiij; vviivc imd (lie lonch 
slunc 
Ni) wail jjDCH tip IIS Hector I'lillii. 
On Ida's nionnt. is llu^ sliinin^ snow, 
Milt. Jov<; li;i:; j'luii' lioni il.'i lnow 
away, 
And ri'd on llic |.l.iiil llir |io|i|ii(:; 
L;idvv 
Wlicrc (Iri'cU and Trojan rouj;li( lli.il 
<lay. 

Mollicr ICarlli! Aiv lliv Ikk..;; .|,;mIi' 
Do Ihcy (Inill \\\r soul d llir y.jii;; 
no inort'i' 
Are lli<" >',Ii'a,ininj; snow;; and llic |io|i 
jiics red 
All thai, is l<'fl ol' I III' hravc of voii-i" 
Are (.here noixi to lij;lit, a;; 'riic;,cii!i 
fon^^dil, 
l''ar in (lit; yonnj; woild's mi:;ly 
<Iawn? 
Or leacli as (lie j;iaydiaiicd Nestor 
(atij^Iil.? 
Mother ICarllil Are lliy heroes );one i" 

(lone? — in II noliler form they rise; 
J)«'ad? — we may clasp Iheir hands in 
otnH, 
An<l catch the lij;lil. ol' liieir j;loiiciiis 
eyes, 
And wreatlie Iheir hrows wilii ini 
mortal liowers. 

Whenever a nolile d I is done, 

There are the sonls of oin' heroes 
stirred ; 
Whenever a liejd for tiiilh is won, 
Thi'nr an; onr Ixrocs' voices h<ai<l. 

Their armor riuyn in a, fairer lielil 

Thiui (ire<'I< or Trojan ever liml, 
For Kri'e(|om's swonl Is the hl.lde I hey 
wield. 
And liie li^'hl, altove lin in liie siiiiie 
of Ood! 
Sf>, in his Isle of e.'iiiii r|<!i)-lit, 

Jason may <lre;iiii the y<'arrt away, 
Mnt, the hi^roes live, and the Hl<i<'H are 
l.ri(;ht., 
And the world is a liiaver world 
to-dtiy. — ICdnii Dean I'roclor. 



The liero is not, fed on s.wnl :, 
Daily his own heai I, he eals; 
Chainhers of the ^^reat, are jaili. 
And head winds ri^;lil, for royal ;;ails. 
— Ralph Waldo lOiiieison. 



TKIUMl'll Ol'^ line MAUI '^■KS 

Tlli'V seemed to die on lialtle-lK'ld, 

To <!!<• with justice, truth, and law; 
'i'lie Moody corpse, the liroken shield, 

Were all that, seiK;eless folly saw. 
Mill, liUe Anlasis from llw t n i f , 

They spiinif; refreshed, to strivo 
a).;ain, 
Wlu'i'e'cr the savaj;<" ami I he t;eif 

Rise to thr- raiiU of men. 

T1m'\' ,1 ,111, , I 1,1 (lie hy sword and hie, 

rlien \<>i<< s hushed in einlN'SS sleep; 
Well ini>;lit. till" noldesl, cause <-xpire 

Menealh that. nian}.;le(|, sinoiild<'riii^; 
heap; 
\i{ Ihal. wan hand, tinarm<Ml, delied 

The le}.;ions of Iheir paj.;aii loi-s; 
And in Ihe trnlhs I hey lestilied, 

l'"rom out, the .r.li, ■. !,,,,■. 



WORTH WIIIMC 

I pl.iy thee, l/Ol(|, 111, it when it <'oiiieH 

l.o liK- 
To say if I will follow truth and Thee, 
Or <'hoose instead to win, as heller 

worth 
My paint!, some cloying; recoinpeiisi' of 

e.irlh 

Or.int, me, j-iisil I'alhei, fiuni a hard- 

follKht iield, 
P'orspeiit. and lirni.si'd, npcai a. hallered 

shieM, 
I Ionic to ohticnn- I'liiliir.iiiee Id In- lioi iie 
Riilhcr timn live my own mean };ainH 

to H(H)rn, 

— ICdward S.indfoKl Marlin. 



WILL 

O, well for him whos<» will JH slroii>;I 
He snll'ers, lait, he will not Hiiller loii^;; 
I h- snllers, lint he cannot Hiider wroii); 
l'"or him nor moves the loud world's 

random mock. 
Nor all ('ala,mil,y's hiij'est waves eon- 

foiin.l. 
Who seems a piomoiippi y of loil., 
That, compasse<| ioiiikI willi liiilm- 

li'iit sound. 
In middle ocean mi-i'ls the siii7;iii^ 

slioelc, 
Teinpest-lailfeted, ciliidel crowned. 

- Alfred Telinysr)!!. 



HEROISM 



NOBLE DEEDS 

Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, 
Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, 

Our hearts in glad surprise, 

To higher levels rise. 

The tidal wave of deeper souls 
Into our inmost being rolls, 

And lifts us unawares 

Out of all meaner cares. 

Honor to those whose words or deeds 
Thus help us in our daily needs, 
And by their overflow 
Raise us from what is low! 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



GOD'S HEROES 

Not on the gory field of fame 

Their noble deeds were done; 
Not in the sound of earth's acclaim 

Their fadeless crowns were won. 
Not from the palaces of kings, 

Nor fortune's sunny clime, 
Came the great souls, whose life-work 
flings 

Luster o'er earth and time. 

For truth with tireless zeal they sought ; 

In joyless paths they trod — 
Heedless of praise or blame they 
wrought, 

And left the rest to God. 
The lowliest sphere was not disdained; 

Where love could soothe or save, 
They went, by fearless faith sustained, 

Nor knew their deeds were brave. 

The foes with which they waged their 
strife 

Were passion, self, and sin; 
The victories that laureled life 

Were fought and won within. 
Not names in gold emblazoned here, 

And great and good confessed, 
In Heaven's immortal scroll appear 

As noblest and as best. 

No sculptured stone in stately temple 

Proclaims their rugged lot; 
Like Him who was their great example. 

This vain world knew them not. 
But though their names no poet wove 

In deathless song or story. 
Their record is inscribed above; 

Their wreaths are crowns of glory. 
— Edward Hartley Dewart. 



WORLDLY PLACE 

"Even in a palace, life may be led 

well!" 
So spoke the imperial sage, purest of 

men, 
Marcus Aurelius. But the stifling den 
Of common life, where, crowded up 

pell-mell. 
Our freedom for a little bread we sell. 
And drudge tmder some foolish master's 

ken. 
Who rates us if we peer outside our 

pen->- 
Matched with a palace, is not this a 

hell? 
"Even in a palace!" On his truth 

sincere, 
Who spoke these words no shadow 

ever came; 
And when my ill-schooled spirit is 

aflame 
Some nobler, ampler stage of life to 

win, 
I'll stop and say: "There were no 

succor here! 
The aids to noble life are all within." 
— Matthew Arnold. 



THE VICTORY 

To do the tasks of life, and be not lost; 

To mingle, yet dwell apart; 
To be by roughest seas how rudely 
tossed. 

Yet bate no jot of heart; 

To hold thy course among the heavenly 
stars. 
Yet dwell upon the earth; 
To stand behind Fate's firm-laid prison 
bars, 
Yet win all Freedom's worth. 

— Sydney Henry Morse. 



'Twere sweet indeed to close our eyes 

with those we cherish near, 
And wafted upward by their sighs soar 

to some calmer sphere; 
But whether on the scaffold high or 

in the battle's van 
The fittest place where man can die 

is where he dies for man. 

— Michael Joseph Barry. 



HEROISM 



13 



A TRUE HERO 

(James Braidwood of the London Fire 
Brigade; died June, 1861.) 

Not at the battle front, writ of in story. 
Not in the blazing wreck, steering to 
glory; 

Not while in martyr-pangs soul and 

flesh sever. 
Died he — this Hero now; hero forever. 

No pomp poetic crowned, no forms 

enchained him; 
No friends applauding watched, no 

foes arraigned him; 

Death found him there, without gran- 
deur or beauty. 
Only an honest man doing his duty; 

Just a God-fearing man, simple and 

lowly. 
Constant at kirk and hearth, kindly 

as holy; 

Death found — and touched him with 

finger in flying — 
Lo! he rose up complete — ^hero undying. 

Now all men mourn for him, lovingly 

raise him. 
Up from his life obscure, chronicle, 

praise him; 

Tell his last act; done 'midst peril ap- 
palling, 

And the last word of cheer from his 
lips falling; 

Follow in multitudes to his grave's 
portal ; 

Leave him there, buried in honor im- 
mortal. 

So many a Hero walks unseen beside 

us. 
Till comes the supreme stroke sent to 

divide us. 

Then the Lord calls his own — ^like this 

man, even, 
Carried, Elijah-like, fire-winged, to 

heaven. 

— Dinah Maria Mulock Craik. 



Unless above himself he can 
Erect himself, how poor a thing is man. 
— Samuel Daniel. 



BATTLES 

Nay, not for place, but for the right. 

To make this fair world fairer still — 
Or lowly lily of the night. 

Or sun topped tower of a hill. 
Or high or low, or near or far, 

Or dull or keen, or bright or dim. 
Or blade of grass, or brightest star — 

All, all are but the same to him. 

O pity of the strife for place! 

O pity of the strife for power! 
How scarred, how marred a mountain's 
face! 

How fair the face of a flower! 
The blade of grass beneath your feet 

The bravest sword — aye, braver far 
To do and die in mute defeat 

Than bravest conqueror of war! 

When I am dead, say this, but this: 

"He grasped at no man's blade or 
shield. 
Or banner bore, but helmetless, 

Alone, unknown, he held the field; 
He held the field, with sabre drawn, 

Where God had set him in the fight; 
He held the field, fought on and on. 

And so fell, fighting for the right!" 
— -Joaquin Miller. 



While thus to love he gave his days 
In loyal worship, scorning praise. 
How spread their lures for him in vain. 
Thieving Ambition and paltering Gain ! 
He thought it happier to be dead. 
To die for Beauty than live for bread. 
— Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



Whether we climb, whether we plod. 
Space for one task the scant years 
lend. 
To choose some path that leads to God, 
And keep it to the end. 

— Lizette Wood worth Reese. 



Bravely to do whate'er the time de- 
mands. 
Whether with pen or sword, and not 
to flinch. 
This is the task that fits heroic hands; 
So are Truth's boundaries widened, 
inch by inch. 

— ^James Russell Lowell. 



COURAGE 



CONSTANCY, CONFIDENCE, STRENGTH, VALOR 



THE BATTLEFIELD 

Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands, 
Were trampled by a hurrying crowd, 

And fiery hearts and armed hands 
Encountered in the battle cloud. 

Ah! never shall the land forget 

How gushed the life-blood of her 
brave — 

Gushed, warm with life and courage yet. 
Upon the soil they fought to save. 

Now all is calm and fresh and still. 
Alone the chirp of flitting bird, 

And talks of children on the hill. 
And bell of wandering kine are heard. 



No solemn host goes trailing by 
The black-movithed gun and 
gering wain; 

Men start not at the battle-cry; 
Oh, be it never heard again I 



stag- 



Soon rested those who fought; but thou 
Who minglest in the harder strife 

For truths which men receive not now, 
Thy warfare only ends with life. 

A friendless warfare! lingering long 
Through weary day and weary year; 

A wild and many-weaponed throng 
Hang on thy front, and flank, and 



Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof. 

And blench not at thy chosen lot; 
The timid good may stand aloof, 

The sage may frown — yet faint thou 
not. 

Nor heed the shaft too surely cast. 
The foul and hissing bolt of scorn; 

For with thy side shall dwell at last 
The victory of endurance born. 



Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise 
again ; 

The eternal years of God are hers; 
But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, 

And dies among his worshipers. 

Yea, though thou lie upon the dust, 
When they who helped thee flee in 
fear. 

Die full of hope and manly trust, 
Like those who fell in battle here. 

Another hand thy sword shall wield, 
Another hand the standard wave, 
Till from the trumpet's mouth is 
pealed, 
The blast of triumph o'er thy grave. 
— William Cullen Byrant, 



DARE YOU? 

Doubting Thomas and loving John, 
Behind the others walking on: 

"Tell me now, John, dare you be 
One of the minority? 
To be lonely in your thought, 
Never visited nor sought. 
Shunned with secret snrug, to go 
Through the world esteemed its foe; 
To be singled out and hissed, 
Pointed at as one unblessed, 
Warned against in whispers faint. 
Lest the children catch a taint; 
To bear off your titles well, — 
Heretic and infidel? 
If you dare, come now with me, 
Fearless, confident and free." 

"Thomas, do you dare to be 

Of the great majority? 

To be only, as the rest. 

With Heaven's common comforts 



blessed ; 



14 



COURAGE 



IS 



To accept, in humble part, 

Truth tnat shines on every heart; 

Never to be set on high. 

Where the envious curses fly; 

Never name or fame to find, 

Still outstripped in soul and mind ; 

To be hid, unless to God, 

As one grass-hl.'idc in the sod; 

Underfoot with millions trod? 

If you dure, come with us, be 

Lost in love's ereat unity." 

— Edward Rowland Sill. 



SENSITIVENESS 

Time was I shrank from what was 
right. 

From fear of what was wroniLj; 
I would not brave the sacred fight 

Because the foe was strong. 

Hut now I cast that finer sense 

And sorer shame aside; 
Such dread of sin was indolence, 

Such aim at heaven was pride. 

So when my Saviour calls I rise, 

And calmly do my best; 
Leaving to Jlim, with silent eyes 

Of hope and fear, the rest. 

I step, I rtiount, where lie has led; 

Men count my baitings o'er; 
I know them; yet, though .self I dread, 

I love His precept more. 

— ^John Henry Newman. 



COURAGE 



Because I hold it sinful to despond, 

And will not let the bitterness of life 
Mliiid me with burning tears, but Itjok 
beyond 
Its ttnnult and its strife; 
Because 1 lift my head above the mist, 
Where the sun shines and the broad 
breezes blf)w. 
By every ray and c;vi'ry rain-drop 
kissed 
That God's love doth bestow; 

Think you I find no bitterness at all? 
No burden tf) be borne, like Chris- 
tian's pack? 
Think you there are no ready tears to 
fall 
Becatise I keep them back? 



Why should I hug life's ills with cold 
reserve, 
To curse myself and all who love me? 
Nay I 
A thotisand times more good than I 
deserve 
(iod gives me every day. 

And in each one of these rebellious 
tears 
Kt])t bravely back lie makes a rain- 
bow sliiiK! ; 
Gratefully 1 take His slightest gift, no 
fears 
Nor any doubts are mine. 

l^ark skies must clear, and when the 
clouds .'ire ])ast 
One golden day redeems a weary 
year ; 
Patient I listen, sun^ that sweet at last 
Will vSound his voice of cheer. 

Then vex me not with chiding. Let 
me be. 
I must be glad and grateful to the 
end. 
I grudge you not your cold and dark- 
n<'ss, — me 
'i'he powers of light befriend. 

— Celia Thaxter. 



DO AND BE BLEST 

Dare to think, though others frown; 
Dare in words your thoughts ex- 
j)ress; 
Dare to rise, thf)Ugh oft cast down; 
Dare the wronged and scorned to 
bless. 

Dare from custom to depart; 

Dare the priceless pearl possess; 
Dare tr) wear it next your heart; 

Dare, when others curse, to l>less. 

Dare forsake what you deem wrong; 

Dare to walk in wisdom's way; 
Dare to give where gifts belong, 

Dare God's [)recepts to obey. 

Do what conscience says is right, 
Do what reason says is best. 

Do with all your mind and might; 
Do your duty and be blest. 



i6 



COURAGE 



A PLACE WITH HIM 

O tired worker, faltering on life's 
ruj^ecd way, 
With faithful hands so full they may 
not rest. 
Forget not that the weak of earth have 
one sure stay. 
And hinnblest ones by God himself 
are blest. 

Who work for Ilim! 

TheTi courage take, faint heart! and 
though the path be long 
God's simple rule thy steps will 
safely guide: — 
"Love Ilim, thy neighbor as thyself, 
iuid do no wrong"; 
In calm content they all shall surely 
bide 

Who walk with Him I 

So banish every fear, each daily task 
take up, 
God's grace thy failing strength shall 
build anew; 
His mercy, in thy sorrows, stay the 
flowing cup: 
And His great love keei> for thy 
spirit true 

A i)lacc with him! 

— J. D. Seabury. 



GOD A FORTRESS 

A mighty fortress is our God, 

A bulwark never failing: 
Our Helper, he, amid the flood 

Of mortal ills prevailing. 
For still our ancient foe 
Doth seek to work us woe; 
His craft and power are great, 
And, anned with cruel hate, 

On earth is not his equal. 

Did wc in our own strength confide, 
Our striving would be losing; 

Were not the right man on our side, 
The man of God's own choosing. 

Dost ask who that may be? 

Christ Jesus, it is he; 

Lord Sabaoth is his name, 

From age to age the same. 
And he must win the battle. 

And though this world, with devils 
fdled. 

Should threaten to imdo us; 
We will not fear, for God hath willed 

His truth to triumph through us. 



The Prince of darkness grim — 
We tremble not for him; 
His rage we can endure. 
For lo! his doom is sure. 

One little word shall fell him. 

That word above all earthly powers — 

No thanks to them — abidetli; 
The Spirit and the gifts are ours 

Through him who with us sidcth. 
Let goods and kindred go, 
This mortal life also; 
The body they may kill: 
God's truth abideth still. 

His kingdom is forever. 
— Martin Luther, tr. by Frederick H. 

Hedge. 



STRENGTH 



Be strong to hope, O heart! 

Though day is bright. 
The stars can only shine 

In the dark night. 
Be strong, O heart of mine, 

Look toward the light. 

Be strong to bear, O heart 1 

Nothing is vain: 
Strive not, for life is care, 

And God sends pain. 
Heaven is above, and there 

Rest will remain. 

Be strong to love, O heart! 

Love knows not wrong; 
Didst thou love creatures even, 

Life were not long; 
Didst thou love God in heaven 

Thou wouldst be strong. 



Why comes temptation but for man 

to meet 
Atid master and make crouch beneath 

his foot. 
And so be pedestaled in triumph? Pray, 
"Lead iis into no such temptation. 

Lord!" 
Yea, but, O thou whose servants are 

the bold, 
Lead such temptations by the head and 

hair. 
Reluctant dragons, up to who dares 

fight. 
That so he may do battle and have 

praise. — Robert Browning. 



COURAGE 



17 



BE JUST AND FEAR NOT 

Speak thou tlic truth. Lot oLlicrs 
fence, 

And trim their words for pay: 
In pleasant sunshine of pretense 

Let others bask their day. 

Guard thou the fact; though clouds of 

night 

Down on thv watch tower stooj): 

Though thou snovildst see thine heart's 

delight 

Borne from thee by their swoop. 

Face thou the wind. Though safer 
seem 

In shelter to abide: 
We were not made to sit and dream: 

The safe must first be tried. 

Where God hath set His thorns about, 
Cry not, "The way is plain": 

His path within for those without 
Is paved with toil and pain. 

One fragment of His blessed Word, 

Into thy spirit burned, 
Is better than the whole half-heard 

And by thine interest turned. 

Show thou thy light. If conscience 
gleam, 

Set not thy bushel down; 
The smallest spark may send his beam 

O'er hamlet, tower, and town. 

Woe, woe to him, on safety bent. 
Who creeps to age from youth, 

Failing to grasp his life's intent 
Because he fears the truth. 

Be true to every inmost thought. 
And as thy thought, thy speech: 

What thou hast not by suffering bought. 
Presume thou not to teach. 

Hold on, hold on — thovi hast the rock, 

The foes are on the sand: 
The first world tempest's ruthless 
shock 

Scatters their drifting strand: 

While each wild gust the mist shall 
clear 
We now see darkly through, 
And justified at last appear 
The true, in Him that's True. 

— Henry Alford. 



COURAC^.Ii) DEFINICI) 

Tlie brave man is not he who feels no 
fear. 

For that were stupid and irrational; 

But he whose noble soul its fear sub- 
dues. 

And bravely dares the danger nature 
shrinks from. 

As for your youth whom blood and 
blows delight, 

Away with them! there is not in their 
crew 

One valiant spirit. 

— Joanna Baillie. 



DEMAND FOR COURAGE 

Thy life's a warfare, thou a soldier art; 
Satan's thy foeman, and a faithful 

heart 
Thy two-edged weapon; patience is thy 

shield. 
Heaven is thy chieftain, and the world 

thy field. 
To be afraid to die, or wish for death. 
Are words and passions of despairing 

breath. 
Who doth the first the day doth faintly 

yield ; 
And who the second basely flies the 

field. 

— Francis Quarles. 



When falls the hour of evil chance — 
And hours of evil chance will fall — 

Strike, though with but a broken lance! 
Strike, though you have no lance 
at all! 

Shrink not, however great the odds; 

Shrink not, however dark the hour — 
The barest possibility of good 

Demands your utmost power. 



They are slaves who fear to speak 
For the fallen and the weak; 
'J'hey are slaves who will not choose 
Hatred, scoflfing and abuse, 
Rather than in silence shrink 
From the truth they needs must think; 
They are slaves who dare not be 
In the right with two or three. 

— James Russell Lowell. 



i8 



COURAGE 



TRUST IN GOD AND DO THE 
RIGHT 

Courage, brother, do not stumble. 

Though thy path be dark as night; 
There's a star to guide the humble — 

Trust in God and do the right. 
Though the road be long and dreary. 

And the end be out of sight; 
Foot it bravely, strong or weary — 

Trust in God and do the right. 

Perish "policy" and cunning, 

Perish all that fears the light; 
Whether losing, whether winning, 

Trust in God and do the right. 
Shun all forms of guilty passion, 

Fiends can look like angels bright; 
Heed no custom, school, or fashion — 

Trust in God and do the right. 

Some will hate thee, some will love thee. 

Some will flatter, some will slight; 
Cease from man and look above thee. 

Trust in God and do the right. 
Simple rule and safest guiding — 

Inward peace and shining light — 
Star upon ovu* path abiding — 

Tkust in God and do the Right. 
— Norman Macleod. 



THE PRESENT CRISIS 

We are living, we are dwelling, in a 

grand and awful time. 
In an age on ages telling to be living 

is sublime. 
Hark! the waking up of nations; Gog 

and Magog to the fray. 
Hark! what sovmdeth? Tis creation 

groaning for its latter day. 

Will ye play, then, will ye dally, with 
your music and your wine? 

Up! it is Jehovah's rally; God's own 
arm hath need of thine; 

Hark! the onset! will ye fold your faith- 
clad arms in lazy lock? 

Up! O up, thou drowsy soldier! Worlds 
are charging to the shock. 

Worlds are charging — heaven behold- 
ing; thou hast but an hour to fight; 

Now the blazoned cross imfolding, on, 
right onward for the right! 

On! let all the soul within you for the 
truth's sake go abroad! 

Strike ! let every nerve and sinew tell on 
ages; tell for God! 

— Arthur Cleveland Coxe. 



BRAVERY 

We will speak on; we will be heard; 

Though all earth's systems crack, 
We will not bate a single word. 

Nor take a letter back. 

We speak the truth; and what care we 

For hissing and for scorn 
While some faint gleaming we can see 

Of Freedom's coming morn! 

Let liars fear; let cowards shrink; 

Let traitors turn away; 
Whatever we have dared to think, 

That dare we also say. 

— ^James Russell Lowell. 



NO ENEMIES 



He has no enemies, you say? 

My friend, your boast is poor; 
He who hath mingled in the fray 

Of duty, that the brave endure. 
Must have made foes. If he has none 
Small is the work that he has done. 
He has hit no traitor on the hip; 
He has cast no cup from tempted lip; 
He has never turned the wrong to 

right; 
He has been a coward in the fight. 



One deed may mar a life. 

And one can make it. 
Hold firm thy will for strife. 

Lest a quick blow break it! 
Even now from far, on viewless wing. 
Hither speeds the nameless thing 

Shall put thy spirit to the test. 
Haply or e'er yon sinking sun 

Shall drop behind the purple West 
All shall be lost — or won! 

— Richard Watson Gilder. 



In spite of sorrow, loss, and pain. 
Our course be onward still; 

We sow on Burmah's barren plain, 
We reap on Zion's hill. 

— Adoniram Judson. 



I find no foeman in the road but Fear. 
To doubt is failure and to dare success. 
— Frederic Lawrence Knowles. 



COURAGE 



19 



DARE TO DO RIGHT 

Dare to do right! dare to be true! 
You have a work that no other can do, 
Do it so bravely, so kindly, so well, 
Angels will hasten the story to tell. 

Dare to do right! dare to be true! 
Other men's failures can never save 

you; 
Stand by your conscience, your honor, 

your faith; 
Stand like a hero, and battle till death. 

Dare to do right! dare to be true! 
God, who created you, cares for you 

too; 
Treasvires the tears that his striving 

ones shed, 
Counts and protects every hair of your 

head. 

Dare to do right! dare to be true! 
Keep the great judgment-seat always 

in view; 
Look at your work as you'll look at 

it then — ■ 
Scanned by Jehovah, and angels, and 

men. 

Dare to do right! dare to be true! 
Cannot Omnipotence carry you 

through ? 
City, and mansion, and throne all in 

sight — 
Can you not dare to be true and do 

right? 

Dare to do right! dare to be true! 

Prayerfully, lovingly, firmly pursue 
The path by apostles and martyrs once 

trod. 
The path of the just to the city of God. 
— George Lansing Taylor. 



PLUCK WINS 



Pluck wins! It always wins! though 

days be slow. 
And nights be dark 'twixt days that 

come and go. 
Still pluck will win; its average is sure. 
He gains the prize who will the most 

endure ; 
Who faces issues; he who never shirks; 
Who waits and watches, and who 

always works. 



BE NEVER DISCOURAGED 

Be never discouraged! 

Look up and look on; 
When the prospect is darkest 

The cloud is withdrawn. 
The shadows that blacken 

The earth and the sky. 
Speak to the strong-hearted. 

Salvation is nigh. 

Be never discouraged! 

If you would secure 
The earth's richest blessings. 

And make heaven sure, 
Yield not in the battle. 

Nor quail in the blast ; 
The brave and unyielding 

Win nobly at last. 

Be never discouraged! 

By day and by night 
Have glory in prospect 
And wisdom in sight; 
Undaunted and faithful. 

You never will fail. 
Though kingdoms oppose you 

And devils assail. 

— D. C. Colesworthy. 



NEVER SAY FAIL 

Keep pushing — 'tis wiser than sitting 
aside 

And dreaming and sighing and waiting 
the tide. 

In life's earnest battle they only pre- 
vail 

Who daily march onward, and never 
say fail. 

With an eye ever open, a tongue that's 

not dumb. 
And a heart that will never to sorrow 

succumb. 
You'll battle — and conquer, though 

thousands assail; 
How strong and how mighty, who 

never say fail. 

In life's rosy morning, in manhood's 

firm pride. 
Let this be the motto your footsteps 

to gfuide: 
In storm and in sunshine, whatever 

assail, 
We'll onward and conquer, and never 

say fail. 



COURAGE 



ONLY ONE WAY 

However the battle is ended, 
Though proudly the victor comes, 

With fluttering flags and prancing nags 
And echoing roll of drums. 

Still truth proclaims this motto, 
In letters of living light: 

No question is ever settled 
Until it is settled right. 

Though the heel of the strong oppressor 

May grind the weak in the dust, 
And the voices of fame with one 
acclaim 

May call him great and just. 
Let those who applaud take warning, 

And keep this motto in sight: 
No question is ever settled 

Until it is settled right. 

Let those who have failed take courage ; 

Though the enemy seemed to have 
won, 
Though his ranks are strong, if in the 
wrong 

The battle is not yet done. 
For, sure as the morning follov^s 

The darkest hour of the night, 
No question is ever settled 

Until it is settled right. . 



FORTITUDE AMID TRIALS 

O, never from thy tempted heart 
Let thine integrity depart I 
When Disappointment fills thy cup, 
Undaunted, nobly drink it up; 
Truth will prevail and Justice show 
Her tardy honors, sure, though slow. 
Bear on — bear bravely on! 

Bear on! Our life is not a dream. 
Though often such its mazes seem; 
We were not bom for lives of ease, 
Ourselves alone to aid and please. 
To each a daily task is given, 
A labor which shall fit for Heaven; 
When Duty calls, let Love grow warm; 
Amid the sunshine and the storm. 
With Faith life's trials boldly breast, 
And come a conqueror to thy rest. 
Bear on — bear bravely on! 



He that feeds men serveth few; 
He serves all who dares be true. 

— Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



PLUCK 

Be firm. One constant element in luck 

Is genuine, solid, old Teutonic pluck. 

See yon tall shaft? It felt the earth- 
quake's thrill. 

Clung to its base, and greets the sun- 
light still. 

Stick to your aim; the mongrel's hold 

will slip. 
But only crow-bars loose the bulldog's 

grip; 
Small as he looks, the jaw that never 

yields 
Drags down the bellowing monarch of 

the fields. 

Yet, in opinions look not always back; 

Your wake is nothing, — mind the com- 
ing track; 

Leave what you've done for what you 
have to do, 

Don't be "consistent," but be simply 
true. 

— Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



Do thy little; do it well; 
Do what right and reason tell; 
Do what wrong and sorrow claim: 
Conquer sin and cover shame. 
Do thy little, though it be 
Dreariness and drudgery; 
They whom Christ apostles made 
Gathered fragments when he bade. 



Is the work difficult? 

Jesus directs thee. 
Is the path dangerous? 

Jesus protects thee. 

Fear not and falter not; 

Let the word cheer thee: 
All through the coming year 

He will be near thee. 



Well to suffer is divine. 

Pass the watchword down the line. 

Pass the countersign. Endure! 
Not to him who rashly dares, 
But to him who nobly bears. 

Is the victor's garland svu"e. 
— ^John Greenleaf Whittier. 



COURAGE 



If thou canst plan a noble deed 
And never flag till thou succeed, 
Though in the strife thy heart shall 

bleed, 
Whatever obstacles control, 
Thine hour will come ; go on, true soul ! 
Thou'lt win the prize ; thou'lt reach the 

goal. 



I honor the man who is willing to sink 
Half his present repute for freedom 

to think; 
And when he has that, be his cause 

strong or weak, 
Will risk t'other half for freedom to 

speak. — ^James Russell Lowell. 



The word is great, and no deed is greater 
When both are of God, to follow or 
lead; 
But alas! for the truth when the word 
comes later. 
With questioned steps, to sustain the 
deed. — ^John Boyle O'Reilly. 



Stand upright, speak thy thought, de- 
clare 
The truth thou hast that all may 
share ; 
Be bold, proclaim it everywhere; 
They only live who dare. 

— Lewis Morris. 



There is no duty patent in the world 
Like daring try be good and true myself. 
Leaving the shows of things to the 

Lord of show 
And Prince o' the power of the air. 
— Robert Browning. 



Tender-handed stroke a nettle, 
And it stings you for your pains; 
Grasp it like a man of mettle, 
And it soft as silk remains. 

— ^Aaron Hill (1685-1750). 



On the red rampart's slippery swell, 
With heart that beat a charge, he fell 

Foeward, as fits a man; 
But the high soul bums on to light 

men's feet 
Where death for noble ends makes 
dying sweet. 

■ — ^James Russell Lowell. 



I do not ask that Thou shalt front the 
fray. 
And drive the warring foeman from 
my sight: 
I only ask, O Lord, by night, by day, 
Strength for the fight 1 



No coward soul is mine. 

No trembler in the world's storm- 
troubled sphere; 

I see Heaven's glories shine. 

And faith shines equal, arming me 
from fear. — Emily Bronte. 



You will find that luck 

Is only pluck 
To try things over and over; 

Patience and skill. 

Courage and will, 
Are the four leaves of luck's clover. 



the 



The chivalry 

right and disregards 



That dares 

alike 
The yea and nay o' the world. 

— Robert Browning. 



God has his best things for the few 
Who dare to stand the test; 

He has his second choice for those 
Who will not have his best. 



Dare to be true ; nothing can need a lie ; 
A fault which needs it most grows two 
thereby. — George Herbert. 



INDEPENDENCE 

MANHOOD, FIRMNESS, EARNESTNESS, RESOLUTION 



WANTED 

God give tts men! A time like this 

demands 
Strong minds, great hearts, true faith, 

and ready hands; 
Men whom the lust of office does not 

kill; 
Men whom the spoils of office cannot 

buy; 
Men who possess opinions and a will; 
Men who have honor — men who will 

not lie. 
Men who can stand before a dcmagogiie 
And damn his treacherous flatteries 

without winking; 
Tall men, sun-crowned, who live above 

the fog 
In public duty and in private think- 
ing; 
For while the rabble, with their thiimb- 

wom creeds. 
Their large professions and their little 

deeds, 
Mingle in selfish strife, lo! Freedom 

weeps. 
Wrong rules the land, and waiting 

Justice sleeps. 

— Josiah Gilbert Holland. 



TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE 

By thine own soul's law leam to live. 
And if men thwart thee take no 
heed; 
And if men hate thee have no care; 

Sing thou thy song, and do thy deed ; 

Hope thou thy hope, and pray th)^ 

prayer. 

And claim no crown they will not 

give. 

Nor bays they grudge thee for thy hair. 

Keep thou thy soul-won, steadfast oath. 
And to thy heart be true thy heart; 

What thy soul teaches leam to know. 
And play out thine appointed part, 

And thou shalt reap as thou shalt sow. 
Nor helped nor hardened in thy 
growth, 

To thy full stature thou shalt grow. 



Fix on the future's goal thy face, 

And let thy feet be lured to stray 
Nowhither, but be swift to run. 

And nowhere tarry by the way, 
Until at last the end is won, 

And thou mayst look back from thy 
place 
And see thy long day's journey done. 
— Pakenham Beatty. 



LORD OP HIMSELF 

How happy is he bom and taught 
That serveth not another's will; 

Whose armor is his honest thought, 
And simple truth his utmost skill. 

Whose passions not his masters are. 
Whose soul is still prepared for death; 

Not tied unto the world with care 
Of public fame or private breath. 

Who envies none that chance doth 
raise. 
Or vice; who never understood 
How deepest wounds are given by 
praise. 
Nor rules of state but rules of good. 

Who hath his life from rumors freed. 
Whose conscience is his strong retreat ; 

Whose state can neither flatterers feed, 
Nor ruin make accusers great. 

Who God doth late and early pray 
More of his grace than gifts to lend; 

And entertains the harmless day 
With a well-chosen book or friend. 

This man is freed from servile bands. 
Of hope to rise or fear to fall; 

Lord of himself, though not of lands. 
And having nothing, yet hath all. 
— Henry Wotton. 



High above hate I dwell; 
O storms, farewell I 



INDEPENDENCE 



23 



UNCONQUERED 

Out of the night that covers me, 
Black as the pit from pole to pole, 

I thank whatever gods may be 
For my unconquerable soul. 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears 
Looms but the horror of the shade, 

And yet the menace of the years 
Finds and shall find me unafraid. 

In the fell clutch of circumstance 
I have not winced nor cried aloud; 

Under the bludgeonings of chance 
My head is bloody, but unbowed. 

It matters not how strait the gate. 
How charged with punishments the 
scroll ; 
I am the master of my fate, 
I am the captain of my soul. 

— William Ernest Henley. 



RELIGION AND DOCTRINE 

He stood before the Sanhedrim: 
The scowling rabbis gazed at him. 
He recked not of their praise or blame; 
There was no fear, there was no shame, 
For one upon whose dazzled eyes 
The whole world poured its vast sur- 
prise. 
The open heaven was far too near 
His first day's light too sweet and clear, 
To let him waste his new-gained ken 
On the hate-clouded face of men. 

But still they questioned. Who art 

thou? 
What hast thou been? What art thou 

now? 
Thou art not he who yesterday 
Sat here and begged beside the way. 
For he was blind. 

"And I am he; 
For I was blind, but now I see." 

He told the story o'er and o'er; 
It was his full heart's only lore; 
A prophet on the Sabbath day 
Had touched his sightless eyes with 

clay. 
And made him see who had been blind. 
Their words passed by him like the 

wind 
Which raves and howls, but cannot 

shock 
The hundred-fathom-rooted rock. 



Their threats and fury all went wide; 
They could not touch his Hebrew pride. 
Their sneers at Jesus and his band. 
Nameless and homeless in the land. 
Their boasts of Moses and his Lord, 
All could not change him by one word. 

"/ know not what this man may be. 
Sinner or saint; but as for me 
One thing I know: that I am he 
Who once was blind, and now I see." 

They were all doctors of renown, 
The great men of a famous town 
With deep brows, wrinkled, broad, and 

wise 
Beneath their wide phylacteries; 
The wisdom of the East was theirs. 
And honor crowned their silvery hairs. 
The man they jeered, and laughed to 

scorn 
Was unlearned, poor, and humbly bom ; 
But he knew better far than they 
What came to him that Sabbath day; 
And what the Christ had done for him 
He knew, and not the Sanhedrim. 

— ^John Hay, 



THE OLD STOIC 

Riches I hold in light esteem, 
And Love I laugh to scorn; 

And lust of fame was but a dream, 
That vanished with the mom. 

And, if I pray, the only prayer 

That moves my lips for me 
Is, "Leave the heart that now I bear, 

And give me liberty!" 

Yes, as my swift days near their goal, 

'Tis all that I implore. 
In life and death a chainless soul 

And courage to endure. 

— Emily Bronte. 



Keep to the right, within and without. 
With stranger and pilgrim and friend ; 
Keep to the right and you need have 
no doubt 
That all will be well in the end. 
Keep to the right in whatever you do, 
Nor claim but your own on the way; 
Keep to the right, and hold on to the 
true. 
From the mom to the close of life's 
day! 



24 



INDEPENDENCE 



\<\)\i A' 'I'll AT 

Is lluTf for hciiusl, poverty 

Thai Ikui^s his lic.ul, and a' (hat? 
The coward slave, wc pass him by, 

We dure be jjoor for a' that; 

For a' that and a' that; 

Oiu" toils obscnro and a' that; 
The rank is bnt the ^juinca-stanip. 

The man's the gowd fur a' that. 

What thou},'h on hamcly fare we dine, 

W»ar hodden j,''''y. '"•<' ''^' lhu,t: 
die fools their silks and knaves their 
wine, 

A man's a man for a' (hat; 

For a' that and a' that, 
. Their tinsel show, and a' Ihal, 
The honest man, thoujjh e'er sae poor, 

Is king o' men, for a that. 

You see yon l)irkie ca'd a lord, 

Wha stmts and stares, and a' that: 

Thouj^'h hundreds worship at his word 
IIi''s but a coof for a' that. 
I'\)r a' that and a' that, 
His riband, star, and a' that, 

The man of in<lei)endent mind. 
He looks and laughs at a' that. 

A prince can mak a bi-ltcd knight, 
A marquis, duke, and a' that; 

But an honest man's aboon his Tuight, 
Guid faith, he manna fa' that. 
For a' that and a' that. 
Their tlignities, and a' that, 

The pith of si-nse and i)ride o' wcnlh, 
Are higher ranks tnan a* that. 

Then let us pray that come it may, 

As come it will, for a' that, 
That sense and worth o'er a' the earth, 

May bear the gree and a' that; 

l'\)r a' that and a' that. 

It's comin' yet for a' that. 
That man to man, the warld o'er, 

Shall brothers be, for a' that. 

— Robert Hums. 



Stone walls do not a prison make, 

Nor iron bars a cage; 
Minds innocent and quiet take 

That for a hermitage; 
If I have freedom in my love, 

And in my soid am free. 
Angels alone, that soar (diove, 

Enjoy such libertv. 

— Richard Lovelace. 



"A MAN'S A MAN I'^OR A' '1"IIAT" 
(A new song to an old tune.) 

"A man's a man," says Robert Burns, 

"l<N)r a' that and a' that"; 
But though the song be clear and 
strong 

It lacks a note for a' that, 
'i'he lout who'd shirk his daily work, 

Vi't claim his wage and a' that. 
Or beg when he might earn his bread, 

Is not a man for a' that. 

If all who "dine on homely fare" 

Were true and brave and a' that, 
And none who.se garb is "hodden gray" 

Was fool or knave and a' that. 
The vice and crime that shame our time 

Would (lisa|)pear and a' that, 
And plowmen be as great as kings. 

And churls as earls for a' that. 

But 'tis not so; yon brawny fool, 

Who swaggers, swears, and a' that. 
And thiidvs because his strong right arm 

Might fell an ox, and a' that, 
That he's as noble, man for man, 

As duke or lord, and a' that, 
Is but an tuiimal at best 

But not a man for a' that. 

A man mav own a large estate. 

Have palace, ])ark, and a' that. 
And not for birth, but honest worth. 

Be thrice a man for a' that. 
And Sawnie, herding on the moor, 

Who lu-ats his wife and a' that. 
Is nothing but a brutal boor. 

Nor half a man for a' that. 

It comes to this, dear Robert Burns, 

The truth is old, and a' that. 
The raidc is but the guinea's stamj). 

The man's the gowd for a' that. 
And though you'd put the self-same 
mark 

On copper, brass, and a' that. 
The lie is gro.ss, the cheat is plain. 

And will not ])ass for a' that. 

"For a' that and a' that" 

'Tis soul and heart and a' that 
That makes a king a gentleman. 

And not his crown for a' that. 
And whether he be rich or poor 

The best is he, for a' that, 
Who stands erect in self-respect, 

And acts the man for a' that. 

— Charles Mackay. 



INDEPENDENCE 



25 



ESSE QUAM VIDERI 

The knightly legend on thy shield be- 
trays 
The moral of thy life; a forecast wise, 
And that large honc^r that deceit 
defies, 
Inspired thy fathers in the elder days, 
Who decked thy scutcheon with tliat 
sturdy phrase, 
To be, rather than scent. As eve's 

red skies 
Surpass the morning's rosy prophe- 
cies. 
Thy life to that proud boast its answer 

pays, 
Scorning thy faith and purpose to de- 
fend. 
The ever-mutable multitude at last 
Will hail the power they did not com- 
prehend — 
Thy fame will broaden through the 
centuries; 
As, storm and billowy tumult over- 
past, 
The moon rules calmly o'er the con- 
quered seas. — ^John Hay. 

THE HIGHER LAW 

Man was not made for forms, but forms 
for man. 
And there are times when law itself 
must bend 
To that clear spirit always in the van, 
Outspeeding human justice. In the 
end 
Potentates, not humanity, must fall. 
Water will find its level, fire will 
burn, 
The winds must blow around the 
earthly ball. 
The earthly ball by day and night 
must turn ; 
Freedom is typed in every element, 
Man must be free, if not through law, 
why then 
Above the law, until its ff>rcc be spent 
And justice brings a better. But, O, 
when. 
Father of Light, when shall the reckon- 
ing come 
To lift the weak, and strike the oppressor 
dumb. — Christopher Pearse Cranch. 



What I am, what I am not, in the eve 
Of the world, is what I never cared (ov 
much. — Robert Browning. 



I RESOLVE 

To keep my health; 

To do my work; 

To live; 

To see to it that I grow and gain and 

give; 
Never to look behind me for an hour; 
To wait in meekness, and to walk in 

power; 
But always fronting onward, to the 

light. 
Always and always facing toward the 

right. 
Robbed, starved, defeated, fallen, wide- 

astray — 
On, with what strength I have — 
Back to the way. 

— Charlotte Perkins Stetson. 



IN MYSELF 



I do not ask for any crown 

But that which all may win; 
Nor try to conquer any world 

Except the one within. 
Be thou my guide until I find 

Led by a tender hand. 
The happy kingdom in myself 

And dare to take command. 

— Louisa May Alcott. 



HIDE NOT THY HEART 

This is my creed, 
This is my deed: 
"Hide not thy hearti" 
Soon we depart; 
Mortals are all; 

A breath, then the pall; 
A flash on the dark — 
All's done — stiff and stark. 
No time for a lie; 
The truth, and then die. 
Hide not thy hearti 

Forth with thy thought! 
Soon 'twill be naught. 
And thou in thy tomb. 
Now is air, now is room. 
Down with false shame; 
Reck not of fame; 
Dread not man's spite; 
Quench not thy light. 
This Vje thy creed, 
This be thy deed: 
"Hide not thy heart f" 



26 



INDEPENDENCE 



If God is, he made 
Sunshine and shade, 
Heaven and hell; 
This we know well. 
Dost thou believe? 
Do not deceive; 
Scorn not thy faith — 
If 'tis a wraith 
Soon it will fly. 
Thou who must die. 
Hide not thy heart! 

This is my creed, 
This be my deed: 
Faith, or a doubt, 
I shall speak out — 
And hide not my heart. 
— Richard Watson Gilder. 



A GENTLEMAN 
( Psa. XV.) 

'Tis he whose every thought and deed 

By rule of virtue moves; 
Whose generous tongue disdains to 
speak 

The thing his heart disproves. 

Who never did a slander forge 
His neighbor's fame to wotmd; 

Nor hearken to a false report 
By malice whispered round. 

Who vice in all its pomp and power 
Can treat with just neglect; 

And piety, though clothed in rags. 
Religiously respect. 

Who to his plighted word of truth 

Has ever firmly stood; 
And, though he promised to his loss, 

Still makes his promise good. 

Whose soul in usury disdains 

His treasure to employ; 
Whom no reward can ever bribe 

The guiltless to destroy. 



I hold it as a changeless law. 

From which no soid can sway or 
swerve, 

We have that in us which will draw 
Whate'er we need or most deserve. 



BE TRUE THYSELF 

Thou must be true thyself 

If thou the truth wouldst teach; 

Thy soul must overflow if thou 
Another's soiol wouldst reach. 

It needs the overflow of heart 
To give the lips full speech. 

Think truly, and thy thoughts 
Shall the world's famine feed; 

Speak truly, and each word of thine 
Shall be a fruitful seed; 

Live truly, and thy life shall be 
A great and noble creed. 

— Horatius Bonar. 



Keep pure thy soul! 

Then shalt thou take the whole 

Of delight; 

Then, without a pang. 

Thine shall be all of beauty whereof the 

poet sang — 
The perfume and the pageant, the 

melody, the mirth, 
Of the golden day and the starry night; 
Of heaven and of earth. 
Oh, keep pure thy soul! 

— Richard Watson Gilder. 



Somebody did a golden deed; 
Somebody proved a friend in need ; 
Somebody sang a beautiful song; 
Somebody smiled the whole day long ; 
Somebody thought, " 'Tis sweet to live. 
Somebody said, "I'm glad to give"; 
Somebody fought a valiant fight; 
Somebody lived to shield the right; 
Was it you? 



Then draw we nearer, day by day. 

Each to his brethren, all to God; 

Let the world take us as she may, 

We must not change our road; 
Not wondering, though in grief, to find 
The martyr's foe still keep her mind; 
But fixed to hold Love's banner fast, 
And by submission win at last. 

— ^John Keble. 



Knowing, what all experience serves to 

show, 
No mud can soil us but the mud we 

throw. 

— ^James Russell Lowell. 



INDEPENDENCE 



27 



Be no imitator; freshly act thy part; 
Through this world be thou an inde- 
pendent ranger; 
Better is the faith that springeth from 
thy heart 
Than a better faith belonging to a 
stranger. — From the Persian. 



None but one can harm you, 

None but yourself who are your greatest 

foe, 
He that respects himself is safe from 

others, 
He wears a coat of mail that none can 

pierce. 

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



And some innative weakness there 

must be 
In him that condescends to victory 
Such as the present gives, and cannot 

wait — 
Safe in himself as in a fate. 

— James Russell Lowell. 



To be the thing we seem, 
To do the thing we deem 

Enjoined by duty; 
To walk in faith, nor dream 
Of questioning God's scheme 

Of truth and beauty. 



To live by law, acting the law we live 
by without fear, 

And, because right is right, to follow 
right, 

Were wisdom, in the scorn of conse- 
quence. — Alfred Tennyson. 



Though love repine, and reason chafe, 
There came a voice without reply: 

*"Tis man's perdition to be safe. 
When for the truth he ought to die." 
— Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



Whatever you are — be that; 
Whatever you say — be true; 

Straightforwardly act — 

Be honest — in fact 
Be nobody else but you. 



If thou hast something, bring thy goods ; 

A fair exchange be thine! 
If thou art something, bring thy soul, 

And interchange with mine. 
— Schiller, tr. by Edward Bulwer Lyt- 

ton. 



However others act toward thee. 
Act thou toward them as seemeth 
right ; 

And whatsoever others be. 

Be thou the child of love and light. 



This above all: to thine own self be true. 
And it must follow, as the night the day, *^ 
Thou canst not then be false to any 
man. — William Shakespeare. 



My time is short enough at best-, 
I push right onward while I may; 

I open to the winds my breast. 
And walk the way. 

— ^John Vance Cheney. 



Not in the clamor of the crowded street. 
Not in the shouts and plaudits of 
the throng, 
But in ourselves are triumph and defeat. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



It becomes no man to nurse despair, 
But in the teeth of clenched antago- 
nisms 
To follow up the worthiest till he die. 
— Alfred Tennyson. 



GREATNESS 



FAME, SUCCESS, PROGRESS, VICTORY 



A GREAT MAN 

That man is great, and he alone, 
Who serves a greatness not his own, 

For neither praise nor pelf; 
Content to know and be unknown: 

Whole in himself. 

Strong is that man, he only strong, 
To whose well-ordered will belong. 

For service and delight. 
All powers that, in the face of Wrong, 

Establish Right. 

And free is he, and only he. 

Who, from his tyrant passions free, 

By Fortune undismayed. 
Hath power upon himself, to be 

By himself obeyed. 

If such a man there be, where'er 
Beneath the sun and moon he fare, 

He cannot fare amiss; 
Great Nature hath him in her care. 

Her cause is his; 

Who holds by everlasting law 
Which neither chance nor change can 
flaw. 

Whose steadfast course is one 
With whatsoever forces draw 

The ages on; 

Who hath not bowed his honest head 
To base Occasion; nor, in dread 

Of Duty, shunned her eye; 
Nor truckled to loud times; nor wed 

His heart to a lie; 

Nor feared to follow, in the offense 
Of false opinion, his own sense 

Of justice unsubdued; 
Nor shrunk from any consequence 

Of doing good; 

He looks his Angel in the face 
Without a blush; nor heeds disgrace 

Whom naught disgraceful done 
Disgraces. Who knows nothing base 

Fears nothing known. 



Not morseled out from day to day 
In feverish wishes, nor the prey 

Of hours that have no plan, 
His life is whole, to give away 

To God and man. 

For though he live aloof from ken. 
The world's unwitnessed denizen. 

The love within him stirs 
Abroad, and with the hearts of men 

His own confers. 

The judge upon the justice-seat; 
The brown-backed beggar in the street ; 

The spinner in the sun; 
The reapers reaping in the wheat; 

The wan-cheeked nun 

In cloisters cold; the prisoner lean 
In lightless den, the robed queen; 

Even the youth who waits. 
Hiding the knife, to glide unseen 

Between the gates — 

He nothing human alien deems 
Unto himself, nor disesteems 

Man's meanest claim upon him. 
And where he walks the mere sunbeams 

Drop blessings on him. 

Because they know him Nature's friend. 
One whom she doth delight to tend 

With loving kindness ever: 
Helping and heartening to the end 

His high endeavor. 

— Edward Bulwer Lytton. 



FAME AND DUTY 

What shall I do lest life in silence pass? 

"And if it do. 
And never prompt the bray of noisy 
brass, 
What need'st thou rue? 
Remember, aye the ocean-deeps are 
mute — 
The shallows roar; 
Worth is the ocean — fame is but the 
bruit 
Along the shore." 



GREATNESS 



29 



What shall I do to be forever known? 

"Thy duty ever!" 
This did full many who yet slept un- 
known. 
"O never, never! 
Think'st thou perchance that they re- 
main unknown 
Whom thou know'st not? 
By angel trumps in heaven their praise 
is blown — 
Divine their lot." 

What shall I do, an heir of endless life? 

"Discharge aright 
The simple dues with which each day 
is rife, 
Yea, with thy might. 
Ere perfect scheme of action thou devise 

Will Ufa be fled, 
While he who ever acts as conscience 
cries, 
Shall live, though dead." 

— Johann C. F. Schiller. 



NOBLE LIVES 

There are hearts which never falter 

In the battle for the right; 
There are ranks which never alter 

Watching through the darkest night; 
And the agony of sharing 

In the fiercest of the strife 
Only gives a nobler daring. 

Only makes a grander life. 

There are those who never weary 

Bearing suffering and wrong; 
Though the way is long and dreary 

It is vocal with their song, 
While their spirits in God's fvimace, 

Bending to His gracious will, 
Are fashioned in a purer mold 

By His loving, matchless skill. 

There are those whose loving mission 

'Tis to bind the bleeding heart; 
And to teach a calm submission 

When the pain and sorrow smart. 
They are angels, bearing to us 

Love's rich ministry of peace. 
While the night is nearing to us 

When life's bitter trials cease. 

There are those who battle slander, 

Envy, jealousy and hate; 
Who would rather die than pander 

To the passions of earth's great; 



No earthly power can ever crush them, 
They dread not the tyrant's frown; 

Fear or favor cannot hush them, 
Nothing bind their spirits down. 

These, these alone are truly great; 
These are the conquerors of fate; 
These truly live, they never die; 
But, clothed with immortality. 
When they lay their armor down 
Shall enter and receive the crown. 



THE HIGHER LIFE 
To play through life a perfect part, 

Unnoticed and unknown; 
To seek no rest in any heart 

Save only God alone; 
In little things to own no will. 

To have no share in great; 
To find the labor ready still 

And for the crown to wait. 

Upon the brow to bear no trace 

Of more than common care; 
To write no secret in the face 

For men to read it there; 
The daily cross to clasp and bless 

With such familiar zeal 
As hides from all that not the less 

The daily weight you feel; 

In toils that praise will never pay, 

To see your life go past; 
To meet in every coming day 

Twin sister of the last; 
To hear of high heroic things. 

And yield them reverence due. 
But feel life's daily sufferings 

Are far more fit for you; 

To own no secret, soft disguise 

To which self-love is prone, 
Unnoticed by all other eyes. 

Unworthy in your own; 
To yield with such a happy art. 

That no one thinks you care. 
And say to your poor bleeding heart, 

"How little you can bear!" 

O 'tis a pathway hard to choose, 

A struggle hard to share; 
For human pride would still refuse 

The nameless trials there. 
But since we know the gate is low 

That leads to heavenly bliss. 
What higher grace could God bestow 

Than such a life as this? 

— ^Adelaide Anne Procter, 



30 



GREATNESS 



NOBILITY OF GOODNESS 

My fairest child, I have no song to give 

you; 
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and 

gray; 
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave 

you, 
For every day. 
Be good, sweet maid, and let who will 

be clever; 
Do noble things, not dream them all day 

long; 
And so make life, death, and that vast 

forever. 
One grand, sweet song! 

— Charles Kingsley. 



THE GLORY OF FAILURE 

We who have lost the battle 

To you who have fought and won; 

Give ye good cheer and greeting! 
Stoutly and bravely done! 

Reach us a hand in passing, 
Comrades — and own the name! 

Yotirs is the thrill and the laurel: 
Ours is the smart and shame. 

Though we were nothing skillful, 

Pity us not nor scorn I 
Send us a hail as hearty — 

"Stoutly and bravely borne!" 

Others may scorn or pity; 

You who are soldiers know. 
Where was the joy of yotu* battle 

Save in the grip with the foe? 

Did we not stand to the conflict? 

Did we not fairly fall? 
Is it your crowns ye care for? 

Nay, to have fought is all. 

Humbled and sore we watch you, 
Cheerful and bruised and lamed. 

Take the applause of the conquered- 
Conquered and unashamed! 

— ^Alice Van Vliet. 



He is brave whose tongue is silent 
Of the trophies of his word. 
He is great whose qviiet bearing 
Marks his greatness well assured. 
— Edwin Arnold. 



THE LOSING SIDE 

Helmet and plume and saber, banner 

and lance and shield, 
Scattered in sad confusion over the 

trampled field; 
And the band of broken soldiers, with 

a weary, hopeless air, 
With heads in silence drooping, and eyes 

of grim despair. 
Like foam-fiakes left on the drifting 

sand 
In the track of a falling tide. 
On the ground where their cause has 

failed they stand. 
The last of the losing side. 

Wisdom of age is vanquished, and gen- 
erous hopes of youth. 

Passion of faith and honor, fire of love 
and truth; 

And the plans that seemed the fairest 
in the fight have not prevailed, 

The keenest blades are broken, and the 
strongest arms have failed. 

But souls that know not the breath of 
shame. 
And tongues that have never lied, 

And the truest hearts, and the fairest 
fame. 
Are here — on the losing side. 

The conqueror's crown of glory is set 

with many a gem. 
But I join not in their triumph — there 

are plenty to shout for them; 
The cause is the most applauded whose 

warriors gain the day. 
And the world's best smiles are given 

to the victors in the fray. 
But dearer to me is the darkened plain. 
Where the noblest dreams have died. 
Where hopes have been shattered and 
heroes slain 
In the ranks of the losing side. 

— Arthur E. J. Legge. 



lO VICTIS 



I sing the hymn of the conquered, who 

fell in the battle of life, 
The hymn of the wounded and beaten, 

who died overwhelmed in the strife ; 
Not the jubilant song of the victors, for 

whom the resotmding acclaim 
Of nations was lifted in chorus, whose 

brows wore the chaplet of fame. 



GREATNESS 



31 



But the hymn of the low and the hum- 
ble, the weary and broken in heart, 

Who strove and who failed, acting 
bravely a silent and desperate part ; 

Whose youth bore no flower on its 
branches, whose hopes burned in 
ashes away, 

From whose hands slipped the prize 
they had grasped at, who stood at 
the dying of day 

With the wreck of their life all around 
them, unpitied, unheeded, alone. 

With death swooping down o'er their 
failure, and all but their faith over- 
thrown. 

While the voice of the world shouts its 
chorus — its pean for those who have 
won; 

While the trumpet is soiinding tri- 
umphant, and high to the breeze 
and the sun 

Glad banners are waving, hands clap- 
ping, and hurrying feet 

Thronging after the laurel-crowned 
victors, I stand on the field of de- 
feat. 

In the shadow, with those who are 
fallen, and wovmded, and dying, 
and there 

Chant a requiem low, place my hand on 
their pain-knotted brows, breathe 
a prayer. 

Hold the hand that is helpless, and 
whisper, "They only the victory 
win, 

Who have fought the good fight and 
have vanquished the demon that 
tempts us within; 

Who have held to their faith unseduced 
by the prize that the world holds 
on high; 

Who have dared for a high cause to suf- 
fer, resist, fight — if need be, to die." 

Speak, History! who are Life's victors? 

Unroll thy long annals and say, 
Are they those whom the world called 

the victors? who won the success 

of a day? 
The martyrs, or Nero? The Spartans 

who fell at Thermopylae's tryst, 
Or the Persians and Xerxes? His 

judges, or Socrates? Pilate, or 

Christ? — William M. Story. 



He makes no friend who never made a 
foe. — Alfred Tennyson. 



THE TRUE KING 

'Tis not wealth that makes a king, 
Nor the purple coloring; 
Nor the brow that's bound with gold. 
Nor gate on mighty hinges rolled. 

The king is he who, void of fear, 
Looks abroad with bosom clear; 
Who can tread ambition down, 
Nor be swayed by smile or frown, 
Nor for all the treasure cares, 
That mine conceals or harvest wears. 
Or that golden sands deliver 
Bosomed in the glassy river. 

What shall move his placid might? 
Not the headlong thunder's light. 
Nor all the shapes of slaughter's trade, 
With onward lance or fiery blade. 
Safe, with wisdom for his crown, 
He looks on all things calraly down, 
He welcomes Fate when Fate is near, 
Nor taints his dying breath with fear. 

No; to fear not earthly thing. 
That it is that makes the king; 
And all of us, whoe'er we be, 
May carve us out that royalty. 



With comrade Duty, in the dark or day, 
To follow Truth — wherever it may 

lead; 
To hate all meanness, cowardice or 
greed; 
To look for Beauty under common clay ; 
Our brothers' burden sharing, when they 
weep. 
But, if we fall, to bear defeat alone; 
To live in hearts that loved us, when 
we're gone 
Beyond the twilight (till the morning 
break!) — to sleep — 

That is Success! 

— Ernest Neal Lyon. 



The common problem, yours, mine, 

every one's, 
Is, not to fancy what were fair in life 
Provided it could be, but, finding first 
What may be, then find out how to 

make it fair 
Up to our means ; a very different thing. 
— Robert Browning. 



32 



GREATNESS 



BETTER THAN GOLD 

Better than grandeur, better than gold, 
Than rank and titles a thousandfold. 
Is a healthy body, a mind at ease. 
And simple pleasures that always please ; 
A heart that can feel for another's woe, 
That has learned with love's deep fires 

to glow. 
With sympathy large enough to enfold 
All men as brothers, is better than gold. 

Better than gold is a conscience clear, 
Though toiling for bread in a humble 

sphere ; 
Doubly blest is content and health 
Untried by the lusts and the cares of 

wealth. 
Lowly living and lofty thought 
Adorn and ennoble the poor man's cot; 
For mind and morals in nature's plan 
Are the genuine tests of the gentleman. 

Better than gold is the sweet repose 
Of the sons of toil when labors close; 
Better than gold is the poor man's sleep 
And the balm that drops on his slum- 
bers deep. 
Bring sleeping draughts to the downy 

bed, 
Where Itixury pillows its aching head ; 
"The toiler a simple opiate deems 
A shorter route to the land of dreams. 

Better than gold is a thinking mind 
That in the realm of books can find 
A treasure surpassing Australian ore, 
And live with the great and good of yore ; 
The sage's lore and the poet's lay; 
The glories of empires passed away; 
The world's great dream will thus tmfold 
And yield a pleasure better than gold. 

Better than gold is a peaceful home, 
Where all the fireside characters come. 
The shrine of love, the heaven of life. 
Hallowed by mother or by wife. 
However humble the home may be, 
Or tried with sorrow by heaven's decree. 
The blessings that never were bought or 

sold 
And center there, are better than gold. 
— Abram J. Ryan. 



MAXIMUS 

I hold him great who, for Love's sake, 
Can give with generous, earnest will; 

Yet he who takes for Love's sweet sake 
I think I hold more generous still. 

I bow before the noble mind 

That freely some great wrong forgives ; 

Yet nobler is the one forgiven. 

Who bears that burden well and lives. 

It may be hard to gain, and still 
To keep a lowly, steadfast heart; 

Yet he Avho loses has to fill 
A harder and a truer part. 

Glorious it is to wear the crown 
Of a deserved and pure success; 

He who knows how to fail has won 
A crown whose luster is not less. 

Great may he be who can command 
And rule with just and tender sway; 

Yet is Diviner wisdom taught 
Better by him who can obey. 

Blessed are those who die for God, 
And earn the martyr's crown of light ; 

Yet he who lives for God may be 
A greater conqueror in his sight. 
— Adelaide Anne Procter. 



When success exalts thy lot 
God for thy virtue lays a plot. 
— Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



'Tis phrase absiurd to call a villain great : 
Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave. 
Is but the more a fool, the more a knave. 
Who noble ends by noble means obtains. 
Or, failing, smiles in exile or in chains; 
Like good Aurelius, let him reign, or 

bleed 
Like Socrates — that man is great indeed. 
One self-approving hour whole years 

outweighs 
Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas; 
And more true joy Marcellus exiled 

feels, 
Than Caesar with a senate at his heels. 
— Alexander Pope. 



Though world on world in myriad 

myriads roll 
Round us, each with different powers. 
And other forms of life than ours, 
What know we greater than the soul? 
On God and Godlike men we build our 

trust. — Alfred Tennyson. 



GREATNESS 



33 



THE GOOD, GREAT MAN 

How seldom, friend, a good, great man 
inherits 
Honor and wealth, with all his worth 
and pains! 
It seems a story from the world of 

spirits 
When any man obtains that which he 
merits, 
Or any merits that which he obtains. 

For shame, my friend ; renotmce this idle 

strain ! 
What wovild'st thou have a good, great 

man obtain? 
Wealth, title, dignity, a golden chain, 
Or heap of corses which his sword hath 

slain ? 
Goodness and greatness are not means, 

but ends. 
Hath he not always treasurer, always 

friends. 
The great, good man ? Three treasures — 

love, and light. 
And calm thoughts, equable as in- 
fants' breath; 
And three fast friends, more sure than 

day or night — 
Himself, his Maker, and the angel 

Death. 

—Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 



THE POEM OF THE UNIVERSE 

The poem of the universe 
Nor rhythm has nor rhyme; 

For God recites the wondrous song 
A stanza at a time. 

Great deeds is he foredoomed to do — 
With Freedom's flag unfurled — 

Who hears the echo of that song 
As it goes down the world. 

Great words he is compelled to speak 
Who understands the song; 

He rises up like fifty men. 
Fifty good men and strong. 

A stanza for each century: 

Now heed it all who can! 
Who hears it, he, and only he. 

Is the elected man. 

— Charles Weldon. 



When faith is lost, when honor dies, 
The man is dead! 

— John Greenleaf Whittier. 



FAILURE AND SUCCESS 

He fails who climbs to power and place 
Up the pathway of disgrace. 
He fails not who makes truth his cause. 
Nor bends to win the crowd's applause. 
He fails not, he who stakes his all 
Upon the right, and dares to fall; 
What though the living bless or blame. 
For him the long success of fame. 

— Richard Watson Gilder. 



WHAT DOES IT MATTER? 

It matters little where I was bom. 

Or if my parents were rich or poor; 
Whether they shrunk at the cold world's 
scorn. 
Or walked in the pride of wealth 
seciu"e. 
But whether I live an honest man 
And hold my integrity firm in my 
clutch 
I tell you, brother, as plain as I can. 
It matters much. 

It matters little how long I stay 

In a world of sorrow, sin, and care; 
Whether in youth I am called away 

Or live till my bones and pate are 
bare. 
But whether I do the best I can 

To soften the weight of Adversity's 
touch 
On the faded cheek of my fellow man. 

It matters much. 

It matters little where be my grave — 

Or on the land or in the sea. 
By purling brook or 'neath stormy wave, 

It matters little or naught to me; 
But whether the Angel Death comes 
down. 
And marks my brow with his loving 
touch, 
As one that shall wear the victor's 



crown, 
It matters much. 



— Noah Barker. 



For I am 'ware it is the seed of act 
God holds appraising in his hollow palm. 
Not act grown great thence in the world 

below ; 
Leafage and branchage vulgar eyes ad- 
mire. 

— Robert Browning. 



.^4 



GREATNESS 



OBSCURE MARTYRS 

"The world knows nothing of its great- 
est men." 

They have no place in storied page; 

No rest in marble shrine; 
They are past and gone with a perished 
age, 

They died and "made no sign." 
But work that shall find its wages yet, 
And deeds that their God did not forget, 

Done for their love divine — .. 
These were their mourners, and these 

shall be 
The crowns of their immortality. 

O, seek them not where sleep the dead, 
Ye shall not find their trace; 

No graven stone is at their head. 
No green grass hides their face; 

But sad and unseen is their silent grave; 

It may be the sand or the deep sea wave. 
Or a lonely desert place; 

F'or they needed no prayers and no 
moiiming-bell — 

They were tombed in true hearts that 
knew them well. 

They healed sick hearts till theirs were 
broken, 
And dried sad eyes till theirs lost light ; 
We shall know at last by a certain token 
How they fought and fell in the fight. 
Salt tears of sorrow unbeheld. 
Passionate cries imchronicled. 

And silent strifes for the right — 
Angels shall count them, and earth shall 

sigh 
That she left her best children to battle 
and die. 

— Edwin Arnold. 



THY BEST 



Before God's footstool to confess 
A poor soul knelt and bowed his head. 
"I failed," he wailed. The Master 
said, 
"Thou did'st thy best — that is success." 
— Henry Coyle. 



Aspire, break bounds, I say; 
Endeavor to be good and better still, 
And best! Success is navight, en- 
deavor's all. 

— Robert Browning. 



FAILURE 

He cast his net at morn where fishers 

toiled. 

At eve he drew it empty to the shore ; 

He took the diver's plunge into the sea. 

But thence within his hand no pearl 

he bore. 

He ran a race, but never reached his 
goal; 
He sped an arrow, but he missed his 
aim; 
And slept at last beneath a simple stone. 
With no achievements carved about 
his name. 

Men called it failure; but for my own 
part 
I dare not use that word, for what if 
Heaven 
Shall question, ere its judgment shall be 
read. 
Not, "Hast thou won?" but only, 
"Hast thou striven?" 

— Kate Tucker Goode. 



THE BEGGAR'S REVENGE 

The king's proud favorite at a beggar 

threw a stone. 
He picked it up as if it had for alms been 

thrown. 

He bore it in his bosom long with bitter 

ache. 
And sought his time revenge with that 

same stone to take. 

One day he heard a street mob's hoarse, 

commingled cry: 
The favorite comes! — but draws no 

more the admiring eye. 

He rides an ass, from all his haughty 

state disgraced ; 
And by the rabble's mocking gibes his 

way is traced. 

The stone from out his bosom swift the 

beggar draws. 
And flinging it away, exclaims: "A fool 

I was! 

'Tis madness to attack, when in his 

power, your foe, 
And meanness then to strike when he 

has fallen low." 

— From the Persian. 



GREATNESS 



55 



A THOUGHT 

Hearts that are great beat never loud; 
They muffle their music, when they 
come; 
They hurry away from the thronging 
crowd 
With bended brows and lips half 
dumb. 

And the world looks on and mutters — 
"Proud." 
But when great hearts have passed 
away, 
Men gather in awe and kiss their shroud, 
And in love they kneel around their 
clay. 

Hearts that are great are always lone; 

They never will manifest their best; 
Their greatest greatness is unknown, 

Earth knows a little — God the rest. 
— ^Abram J. Ryan. 



HIS MONUMENT 

He built a house, time laid it in the dust ; 

He wrote a book, its title now forgot ; 

He ruled a city, but his name is not 
On any tablet graven, or where rust 
Can gather from disuse, or marble bust. 

He took a child from out a wretched cot ; 
Who on the State dishonor might have 
brought ; 
And reared him in the Christian's 
hope and trust. 
The boy, to manhood grown, became a 
light 
To many souls and preached to hu- 
man need 
The wondrous love of the Omnipotent. 
The work has multiplied like stars at 
night 
When darkness deepens; every noble 
deed 
Lasts longer than a granite monument. 
— Sarah Knowles Bolton. 



It is not the wall of stone without 

That makes a building small or great. 

But the soul's light shining round about. 

And the faith that overcometh doubt. 

And the love that stronger is than 

hate. 

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



THE NOBLY BORN 

Who counts himself as nobly born 
Is noble in despite of place ; 

And honors are but brands to one 
Who wears them not with nattire's 
grace. 

The prince may sit with clown or churl 
Nor feel himself disgraced thereby; 

But he who has but small esteem 
Husbands that little carefully. 

Then, be thou peasant, be thou peer. 
Count it still more thou art thine own. 

Stand on a larger heraldry 

Than that of nation or of zone. 

Art thou not bid to knightly halls? 

Those halls have missed a courtly 
guest: 
That mansion is not privileged 

Which is not open to the best. 

Give honor due when custom asks, 
Nor wrangle for this lesser claim; 

It is not to be destitute 
To have the thing without the name. 

Then, dost thou come of gentle blood, 
Disgrace not thy good company; 

If lowly born, so bear thyself 

That gentle blood may come of thee. 

Strive not with pain to scale the height 
Of some fair garden's petty wall; 

But climb the open mountain side 
Whose summit rises over all. 



And, for success, I ask no more than 

this: 
To bear unflinching witness to the truth. 
All true whole men succeed ; for what is 

worth 
Success's name unless it be the thought. 
The inward surety, to have carried out 
A noble purpose to a noble end. 
Although it be the gallows or the block ? 
'Tis only Falsehood that doth ever need 
These outward shows of gain to bolster 

her. — James Russell Lowell. 



Greatly begin! though thou have time 
But for a line, be that sublime — 
Not failure, bvit low aim is crime. 

— ^James Russell Lowell. 



36 



GREATNESS 



THE BURIAL OF MOSES 

By Nebo's lonely mountain, 

On this side Jordan's wave, 
In a vale in the land of Moab, 

There lies a lonely grave. 
But no man dug that sepulchre, 

And no man saw it e'er; 
For the angels of God upturned the sod, 

And laid the dead man there. 

That was the grandest funeral 

That ever passed on earth; 
But no man heard the trampling, 

Or saw the train go forth. 
Noiselessly as the daylight 

Comes when the night is done, 
And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek 

Grows into the great sun — 

Noiselessly as the springtime 

Her crest of verdure weaves. 
And all the trees on all the hills 

Open their thousand leaves — 
So, without sound of music. 

Or voice of them that wept. 
Silently down from the mountain crown 

The great procession swept. 

Perchance some bald old eagle 

On gray Beth-peor's height, 
Out of his rocky eyrie 

Looked on the wondrous sight. 
Perchance some lion, stalking. 

Still shuns the hallowed spot, 
For beast and bird have seen and heard 

That which man knoweth not. 

But when the warrior dieth 

His comrades in the war. 
With arms reversed and muffled drums 

Follow the funeral car; 
They show the banners taken, 

They tell his battles won. 
And after him lead his matchless steed 

While peals the minute gun. 

Amid the noblest of the land 

They lay the sage to rest; 
And give the bard an honored place. 

With costly marble drest. 
In the great minster's transept height, 

Where lights like glory fall. 
While the sweet choir sings and the 
organ rings 

Along the emblazoned wall. 

This was the bravest warrior 
That ever buckled sword; 



This the most gifted poet 
That ever breathed a word; 

And never earth's philosopher 
Traced, with his golden pen, 

On the deathless page, truths half so 
sage 
As he wrote down for men. 

And had he not high honor? 

The hillside for his pall; 
To lie in state while angels wait 

With stars for tapers tall; 
And the dark rock pines, like tossing 
plumes. 

Over his bier to wave; 
And God's own hand, in that lonely 
land. 

To lay him in his grave; 

In that deep grave without a name. 

Whence his uncoffined clay 
Shall break again — most wondrous 
thought! — 

Before the judgment day. 
And stand, with glory wrapt around, 

On the hills he never trod, 
And speak of the strife that won our life 

Through Christ, the incarnate God. 

O lonely tomb in Moab's land, 

O dark Beth-peor's hill. 
Speak to these curious hearts of ours. 

And teach them to be still. 
God hath his mysteries of grace — 

Ways that we cannot tell; 
He hides them deep, like the secret sleep 

Of him he loved so well. 

— Cecil Frances Alexander. 



O, blessed is that man of whom some 
soul can say, 

" He was an inspiration along life's toil- 
some way, 

A well of sparkling water, a fountain 
flowing free. 

Forever like his Master, in tenderest 
sympathy. " 



Truths would you teach, or save a sink- 
ing land? 
All fear, none aid you, and few under- 
stand. 
Painful pre-eminence ! — yourself to view 
Above life's weakness, and its comforts 
, too. 

i — Alexander Pope. 



GREATNESS 



37 



EMIR HASSAN 

Emir Hassan, of the prophet's race, 
Asked with folded hands the Almighty's 

grace, 
Then within the banquet-hall he sat. 
At his meal, upon the embroidered mat. 

There a slave before him placed the food, 
Spilling from the charger, as he stood, 
Awkwardly upon the Emir's breast 
Drops that foully stained the silken vest. 

To the floor, in great remorse and dread. 
Fell the slave, and thus, beseeching, 

said: 
"Master, they who hasten to restrain 
Rising wrath, in paradise shall reign." 

Gentle was the answer Hassan gave: 
"I am not angry." "Yet," pursvied the 

slave, 
"Yet doth higher recompense belong 
To the injured who forgives a wrong." 

"I forgive," said Hassan. "Yet we 

read," 
So the prostrate slave went on to plead, 
"That a higher seat in glory still 
Waits the man who renders good for ill." 

"Slave, receive thy freedom; and, be- 
hold. 

In thy hand I lay a purse of gold. 

Let me never fail to heed, in aught, 

What the prophet of oxir God hath 
taught." 



TRUE GREATNESS 

Who is as the Christian great? 

Bought and washed with sacred blood, 
Crowns he sees beneath his feet. 

Soars aloft and walks with God. 

Lo, his clothing is the svm. 

The bright sun of righteousness; 

He hath put salvation on, 
Jesus is his beauteous dress. 

Angels are his servants here; 

Spread for him their golden wings; 
To his throne of glory bear, 

Seat him by the King of kings. 

— Charles Wesley. 



The glory is not in the task, but in 
The doing it for Him. 

— ^Jean Ingelow. 



MENCIUS 

Three centuries before the Christian age 
China's great teacher, Mencius, was 

born; 
Her teeming millions did not know 
that mom 
Had broken on her darkness ; that a sage, 
Reared by a noble mother, would her 
page 
Of history forevermore adorn. 
For twenty years, from court to court, 

forlorn 
He journeyed, poverty his heritage. 
And preached of virtue, but none cared 
to hear. 
Life seemed a failure, like a barren rill ; 
He wrote his books, and lay beneath 
the sod: 
When, lo! his work began; and far and 
n^r 
Adown the ages Mencius preaches 

still: 
Do thy whole duty, trusting all to 
God. 

— Sarah Knowles Bolton. 



He stood, the youth they called the 
Beautiful, 

At morning, on his untried battle-field. 

And laughed with joy to see his stain- 
less shield. 

When, with a tender smile, but doubt- 
ing sigh. 

His lord rode by. 

When evening fell, they brought him, 

wounded sore, 
His battered shield with sword-thrusts 

gashed and rent. 
And laid him where the king stood by 

his tent. 
"Now art thou Beautiful," the master 

said, 

And bared his head. 

— Annie M. L. Hawes. 



Great men grow greater by the lapse of 
time; 
We know those least whom we have 
seen the latest; 
And they, 'mongst those whose names 
have grown sublime. 
Who worked for human liberty are 
greatest. 

—John Boyle O'Reilly. 



38 



GREATNESS 



^ It is enough — 

Enough — ^just to be good; 
To lift our hearts where they are under- 
stood ; 
To let the thirst for worldly power and 

place 
Go unappeased; to smile back in God's 

face 
With the glad lips our mothers used to 
kiss. 

Ah! though we miss 
All else but this, 

To be good is enough! 

— ^James Whitcomb Riley. 



He who ascends to mountain tops shall 

find 

Their loftiest peaks most wrapped in 

clouds and snow; 

He who surpasses or subdues mankind 

Must look down on the hate of those 

below. 
Though high above the sun of glory 
glow, 
And far beneath the earth and ocean 
spread. 
Round him are icy rocks, and loudly 
blow 
Contending ternpests on his naked head. 
— George Gordon Byron. 



Good name in man and woman, dear 

my lord. 
Is the immediate jewel of their souls: 
Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis 

something, nothing; 
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave 

to thousands; 
But he that filches from me my good 

name 
Robs me of that which not enriches him. 
And makes me poor indeed. 

— William Shakespeare. 



That man may last, but never lives, 
Who much receives but nothing gives; 
Whom none can love, whom none can 

thank; 
Creation's blot; creation's blank! 

But he who marks, from day to day. 
In generous acts his radiant way 
Treads the same path his Saviour trod: 
The path to glory and to God. 



The eye with seeing is not filled, 
The ear with hearing not at rest; 

Desire with having is not stilled, 

With human praise no heart is blest. 

Vanity, then, of vanities. 

All things for which men grasp and 
grope ! 
The precious things in heavenly eyes 
Are love, and truth, and trust, and 
hope. 



A gem which falls within the mire will 

still a gem remain; 
Men's eyes turn downward to the earth 

and search for it with pain. 
But dust, though whirled aloft to 

heaven, continues dust alway, 
More base and noxious in the air than 

when on earth it lay. 
— Saadi, tr, by James Freeman Clarke. 



It was not anything she said; 

It was not anything she did; 
It was the movement of her head, 

The lifting of her lid. 
And as she trod her path aright 

Power from her very garments stole; 
For such is the mysterious might 

God grants a noble soul. 



True worth is in being, not seeming; 

In doing, each day that goes by, 
Some little good, not in dreaming, 

Of great things to do by and by. 
For whatever men say in their blindness. 

And spite of the fancies of youth, 
There's nothing so kingly as kindness, 

And nothing so royal as truth. 

— Alice Cary. 



/ 

The wisest man could ask no more of 
Fate 
Than to be simple, modest, manly, 

true. 
Safe from the Many, honored by the 
Few; 
To coiuit as naught in world of church 

or state 
But inwardly in secret to be great. 

— ^James Russell Lowell. 



GREATNESS 



39 



y 



And only the Master shall praise us, and 

only the Master shall blame ; 
And no one shall work for money, and 

no one shall work for fame ; 
But each for the joy of the working, 

and each, in his separate star. 
Shall draw the Thing as he sees it, for 

the God of Things as they are. 
— Rudyard Kipling. 



In life's small things be resolute and 

great 
To keep thy muscle trained; knowest 

thou when Fate 
Thy measure takes? or when she'll say 

to thee, 
"I find thee worthy; do this deed for 

me"? — ^James Russell Lowell. 



'Tis a life-long toil till our lump be 
leaven. 
The better! What's come to perfec- 
tion perishes. 
Things learned on earth we shall prac- 
tice in heaven. 
Work done least rapidly Art most 
cherishes. — Robert Browning. 



Let come what will, I mean to bear it 

out. 
And either live with glorious victory 
Or die with fame, renowned in chivalry. 
He is not worthy of the honey-comb 
That shuns the hive because the bees 

have stings. 

— William Shakespeare. 



One by one thy duties wait thee. 
Let thy whole strength go to each. 

Let no future dreams elate thee. 

Learn thou first what these can teach. 
— ^Adelaide Anne Procter. 



Give me heart-touch with all that live 
And strength to speak my word; 

But if that is denied me, give 
The strength to live unheard. 

— Edwin Markham. 



Honor and shame from no condition rise ; 
Act well your part, there all the honor 
lies. — Alexander Pope. 



How wretched is the man with honors 
crowned. 

Who, having not the one thing needful 
found. 

Dies, known to all, but to himself un- 
known. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



He fought a thousand glorious wars, 
And more than half the world was his. 

And somewhere, now, in yonder stars. 
Can tell, mayhap, what greatness is. 
— William Makepeace Thackeray. 



Howe'er it be, it seems to me 
'Tis only noble to be good; 

Kind hearts are more than coronets. 
And simple faith than Norman blood. 
— Alfred Tennyson. 



I've learned to prize the quiet, lightning 

deed, 
Not the applauding thunder at its heels 
Which men call fame. 

— Alexander Smith. 



It is worth while to live! 

Be of good cheer; 

Love casts out fear; 
Rise up, achieve. 

— Christina G. Rossetti. 



No endeavor is in vain; 
Its reward is in the doing. 
And the rapture of pursuing 

Is the prize the vanquished gain. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



Far better in its place the lowliest bird 
Should sing aright to Him the lowliest 
song. 
Than that a seraph strayed should take 
the word 
And sing His glory wrong. 

— ^Jean Ingelow. 



Often omateness 
Goes with greatness. 
Oftener felicity 
Comes of simplicity. 

— William Watson. 



40 



GREATNESS 



A jewel is a jewel still, though lying in 

the dust, 
And sand is sand, though up to heaven 

by the tempest thrust. 

— From the Persian. 



Vulgar souls surpass a rare one in the 

headlong rush; 
As the hard and worthless stones a 

precious pearl will crush. 

— From the Persian. 



Be noble! and the nobleness that lies 
In other men, sleeping, but never dead, 
Will rise in majesty to meet thine own. 
— ^James Russell Lowell. 



The mean of soul are sure their faults to 

gloss, 
And find a secret gain in others' loss. 
—John Boyle O'Reilly. 



Ah, a man's reach should exceed his 

grasp. 
Or what's heaven for? 

— Robert Browning. 



Though thy name be spread abroad. 
Like winged seed, from shore to shore, 

What thou art before thy God, 
That thou art and nothing more. 



My business is not to remake myself, 
But make the absolute best of what 
God made. 

— Robert Browning. 



For never land long lease of empire won 
Whose sons sat silent when base deeds 
were done. 

— ^James Russell Lowell. 



He that would free from malice pass his 

days 
Must live obscure and never merit 
praise. — ^John Gay. 



Wearing the white flower of a blameless 

life. 
Before a thousand peering littlenesses. 
— Alfred Tennyson . 



The aim, if reached or not, makes great 

the life, 
Try to be Shakespeare — leave the rest 

to fate. — Robert Browning. 



Unblemished let me live, or die un- 
known ; 

O, grant an honest fame, or grant me 
none. — Alexander Pope. 



With fame in just proportion envy 

grows ; 
The man that makes a character makes 

foes. — Edward Young. 



'Tis not what man does which exalts 

him. 
But what man would do. 

— Robert Browning. 



Better have failed in the high aim, as I, 
Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed. 
— Robert Browning. 



The simple, silent, selfless man 
Is worth a world of tongiiesters. 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



DUTY 

LOYALTY, FAITHFULNESS, CONSCIENCE, ZEAL 



ODE TO DUTY 

Stem daughter of the voice of God! 

O Duty! if that name thou love 
Who art a light to guide, a rod 

To check the erring and reprove; 
Thou who art victory and law 
When empty terrors overawe; 
From vain temptation dost set free; 
And calm'st the weary strife of frail 
humanity! 

There are who ask not if thine eye 
Be on them; who, in love and truth, 
Where no misgiving is, rely 
Upon the genial sense of youth; 
Glad hearts, without reproach or blot. 
Who do thy work and know it not: 
Oh! if through confidence misplaced 
They fail, thy saving arms, dread 
Power, aroimd them cast. 

Serene will be our days, and bright 
And happy will otir nature be. 
When love is an unerring light. 
And joy its own security; 
And they a blissful course may hold 
Even now, who, not unwisely bold. 
Live in the spirit of this creed; 
Yet seek thy firm support according to 
their need. 

I, loving freedom, and untried. 
No sport of every random gust. 
Yet being to myself a guide. 
Too blindly have reposed my trust; 
And oft, when in my heart was heard 
Thy timely mandate, I deferred 
The task, in smoother walks to stray; 
But thee I now would serve more 
strictly, if I may. 

Through no disturbance of my soul, 
Or strong compunction in me wrought, 
I supplicate for thy control. 
But in the quietness of thought. 
Me this imchartered freedom tires; 
I feel the weight of chance desires: 
My hopes no more raust change their 

name, 
I long for a repose that ever is the same. 



Stern Lawgiver! Yet thou dost wear 
The Godhead's most benignant grace; 
Nor know we anything so fair 
As is the smile upon thy face: 
Flowers lattgh before thee on their 

beds 
And fragrance in thy footing treads; 
Thou dost preserve the stars from 

wrong; 
And the most ancient heavens, through 

Thee, are fresh and strong. 

To humbler functions, awful Power! 
I call thee; I myself commend 
Unto thy guidance from this hour; 
Oh, let my weakness have an end! 
Give unto me, made lowly wise. 
The spirit of self-sacrifice; 
The confidence of reason give; 
And in the light of truth thy bondman 
let me live. 

— ^William Wordsworth. 



THE LADDER OF SAINT 
AUGUSTINE 

Saint Augustine! well hast thou said. 
That of our vices we can frame 

A ladder, if we will but tread 

Beneath our feet each deed of shame ! 

All common things, each day's events. 
That with the hour begin and end. 

Our pleasures and our discontents, 
Are rounds by which we may ascend. 

The longing for ignoble things; 

The strife for triumph more than 
truth; 
The hardening of the heart, that brings 

Irreverence for the dreams of youth; 

All thoughts of ill, all evil deeds 

That have their root in thoughts of 
ill; 

Whatever hinders or impedes 
The action of the nobler will ; — 



41 



42 



DUTY 



All these must first be trampled down 
Beneath otir feet, if we would gain 

In the bright fields of fair renown 
The right of eminent domain. 

We have not wings, we cannot soar; 

But we have feet to scale and climb 
By slow degrees, by more and more. 

The cloudy summits of our time. 

The heights by great men reached and 
kept 

Were not attained by sudden flight, 
But they while their companions slept 

Were toiling upward in the night. 

Standing on what too long we bore 
With shoulders bent and downcast 
eyes, 

We may discern — unseen before — 
A path to higher destinies, 

Nor deem the irrevocable Past 
As wholly wasted, wholly vain. 

If, rising on its wrecks, at last 
To something nobler we attain. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



REWARD OF FAITHFULNESS 

The deeds which selfish hearts approve 

And fame's loud trumpet sings 
Secure no praise where truth and love 

Are coimted noblest things; 
And work which godless folly deems 

Worthless, obscure, and lowly. 
To Heaven's ennobling vision seems 

Most god-like, grand, and holy. 

Then murmur not if toils obscure 

And thorny paths be thine; 
To God be true — they shall secure 

The joy of life divine 
Who in the darkest, sternest sphere 

For Him their powers employ; 
The toils contemned and slighted here 

Shall yield the purest joy. 

When endless day dispels the strife 

Which blinds and darkens now, 
Perchance the brightest crown of life 

Shall deck some lowly brow. 
Then learn, despite thy boding fears, 

From seed with sorrow sown. 
In love, obscurity and tears 

The richest sheaves are grown. 

— Edward Hartley Dewart. 



DOE THE NEXTE THYNGE" 

From an old English parsonage 

Down by the sea, 
There came in the twilight 

A message to me; 
Its quaint Saxon legend 

Deeply engraven. 
Hath as it seems to me 

Teaching for heaven; 
And on through the hours 

The quiet words ring. 
Like a low inspiration, 

"Doe the nexte thynge." 

Many a questioning. 

Many a fear. 
Many a doubt. 

Hath guiding here. 
Moment by moment 

Let down from heaven. 
Time, opportunity. 

Guidance are given. 
Fear not to-morrow. 

Child of the King; 
Trust it with Jesus, 

"Doe the nexte thynge." 

O He would have thee 

Daily more free, 
Knov/ing the might 

Of thy royal degree; 
Ever in waiting. 

Glad for his call, 
Tranquil in chastening, 

Trusting through all. 
Comings and goings 

No turmoil need bring: 
His all thy future — 

"Doe the nexte thynge." 

Do it immediately. 

Do it with prayer, 
Do it reliantly. 

Casting all care: 
Do it with reverence, 

Tracing His hand 
Who hath placed it before thee 

With earnest command. 
Stayed on Omnipotence, 

Safe, 'neath his wing. 
Leave all resultings, 

"Doe the nexte th5mge." 

Looking to Jesus, 

Ever serener, 
Working or suffering. 

Be thy demeanor! 
In the shade of his presence, 

The rest of his calm. 



DUTY 



43 



The light of his coiontenance, 
Live out thy psalm: 

Strong in his faithfulness. 
Praise him and sing. 

Then as he beckons thee, 
"Doe the nexte thynge." 



ZEAL IN LABOR 

Go, labor on; spend and be spent, 
Thy joy to do the Father's will; 

It is the way the Master went; 

Should not the servant tread it still? 

Go, labor on; 'tis not for naught; 

Thine earthly loss is heavenly gain; 
Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee 
not; 

The Master praises — what are men? 

Go, labor on; your hands are weak; 

Your knees are faint, your soul cast 
down; 
Yet falter not; the prize you seek 

Is near — a kingdom and a crown! 

Toil on, faint not; keep watch, and pray! 

Be wise the erring soul to win; 
Go forth into the world's highway; 

Compel the wanderer to come in. 

Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice: 

For toil comes rest, for exile home ; 
Soon shalt thou hear the Bridegroom's 
voice. 
The midnight peal, " Behold, I come!" 
— Horatius Bonar. 



THE EVANGELIST 

Walking with Peter, Christ his footsteps 

set 
On the lake shore, hard by Gennesaret, 
At the hotur when noontide's burning 

rays down pour. 
When they beheld at a mean cabin's 

door, 
A fisher's widow in her motuTiing clad, 
Who, on the threshold seated, silent, 

sad. 
The tear that wet them kept her lids 

within. 
Her child to cradle and her flax to spin ; 
Near by, behind the fig-trees' leafy 

screen, 
The Master and His friend could see, 

unseen. 



An old man ready for his earthly bed, 
A beggar with a jar upon his head. 
Came by, and to the mourning spiimer 

there 
Said, "Woman, I this vase of milk 

should bear 
Unto a dweller in the hamlet near; 
But I am weak and bent with many a 

year; 
More than a thousand paces yet to go 
Remain, and, without help, I surely 

know 
I cannot end my task and earn its fee." 

The woman rose, and not a word said 

she. 
Without a pause her distaflf laid aside, 
And left the cradle where the orphan 

cried, 
Took up the jar, and with the beggar 

went. 

"Master, 'tis well to be benevolent," 
Said Peter, "but small sense that woman 

showed. 
In leaving thus her child and her abode 
For the chance-comer that first sought 

her out; 
The beggar some one would have found, 

no doubt. 
To ease him of his load upon the way." 

The Lord made answer unto Peter, 

"Nay, 
Thy Father, when the poor assists the 

poorer. 
Will keep her cot, and her reward assure 

her. 
She went at once, and wisely did in 

that." 

And Jesus, having finished speaking, sat 
Down on a bench was in the humble 

place, 
And with His blest hands for a moment's 

space. 
He touched the distaff, rocked the little 

one. 
Rose, signed to Peter, and they gat them 

gone. 

When she to whom the Lord had given 

this proof 
Of good-will came back to her humble 

roof. 
She foxmd, nor knew what Friend the 

deed had done, 
The baby sleeping and the flax all spun! 
— Francois Coppee. 



44 



DUTY 



THE BEST THAT I CAN 

"I cannot do much," said a little star, 
"To make the dark world bright; 

My silver beams cannot struggle far 
Through the folding gloom of night: 

But I am a part of God s great plan, 

And I'll cheerfully do the best that I 
can." 

"What is the use," said a fleecy cloud, 
"Of these dew-drops that I hold? 

They will hardly bend the lily proud. 
Though caught in her cup of gold ; 

Yet I am a part of God's great plan. 

My treasures I'll give as well as 1 can. " 

A child went merrily forth to play, 
But a thought, like a silver thread. 

Kept winding in and out all day 
Through the happy, busy head, 

"Mother said, 'Darling, do all you can, 

For you are a part of God's great plan.' " 

So she helped a younger child along. 
When the road was rough to the feet ; 

And she sang from her heart a little song, 
A song that was passing sweet; 

And her father, a weary, toil-worn man, 
Said, "I too will do the best that I 
can." 



WORK LOYALLY 

Just where you stand in the conflict. 

There is your place! 
Just where you tnink you are useless 

Hide not your face! 
God placed you there for a purpose, 

Whate'er it be; 
Think He has chosen you for it — 

Work loyally. 

Gird on your armor! Be faithful 

At toil or rest, 
Whiche'er it be, never doubting 

God's way is best. 
Out in the fight, or on picket, 

Stand firm and true; 
This is the work which your Master 

Gives you to do. 



LOYALTY 

When courage fails and faith burns low, 

And men are timid grown. 
Hold fast thy loyalty and know 

That Truth still moveth on. 



For unseen messengers she hath. 
To work her will and ways. 

And even human scorn and. wrath 
God turneth to her praise. 

She can both meek and lordly be, 

In heavenly might secure; 
With her is pledge of victory, 

And patience to endure. 

The race is not unto the swift. 

The battle to the strong. 
When dawn her judgment-days that sift 

The claims of right and wrong. 

And more than thou canst do for Truth 

Can she on thee confer, 
If thou, O heart, but give thy youth 

And manhood unto her. 

For she can make thee inly bright, 

Thy self-love purge away. 
And lead thee in the path whose light 

Shines to the perfect day. 

Who follow her, though men deride. 
In her strength shall be strong; 

Shall see their shame become their pride, 
And share her triumph song! 

— Frederick Lucian Hosmer. 



LIBERTY 



Who does the best his circumstance 

allows, 
Does well, acts nobly; angels could no 

more. 

— Edward Young. 



I am Liberty — God's daughter! 

My symbols — a law and a torch; 
Not a sword to threaten slaughter, 
Nor a flame to dazzle or scorch; 
But a light that the world may see, 
And a truth that shall make men free. 

I am the sister of Duty, 

And I am the sister of Faith; 

To-day adored for my beauty, 
To-morrow led forth for death. 

I am she whom ages prayed for; 

Heroes suffered undismayed for; 

Whom the martyrs were betrayed for. 
—John Boyle O'Reilly. 



DUTY 



45 



THE NEAREST DUTY 

My soul was stirred; I prayed, "Let mc 

Do some great work, so purely, 
To right life's wrongs, that I shall know 

That I have loved Thee surely." 
My lips sent forth their eager cry, 

The while my heart beat faster, 
"For some great deed to prove my love 

Send me; send me, my Master!" 

From out the silence came a voice, 

Saying: "If God thou fearest, 
Rise up and do, thy whole life through. 

The duty that lies nearest. 
The friendly word, the kindly deed, 

Though small the act in seeming. 
Shall in the end unto thy soul 

Prove mightier than thy dreaming. 

The cup of water to the faint. 

Or rest unto the weary. 
The light thou giv'st another's life. 

Shall make thine own less dreary. 
And boundless realms of faith and love 

Will wait for thy possessing; 
Not creeds, but deeds, if thou wouldst 
win 

Unto thy soul a blessing." 

And so I wait with peaceful heart. 

Content to do His pleasure; 
Not caring if the world shall mock 

At smallncss of the measure 
Of thoughts or deeds or daily life. 

He knows the true endeavor — 
To do His will, to seek His face — 

And He will fail me never. 

— Sarah A. Gibbs. 



THE ONE TALENT 

Hide not thy talent in the earth; 

However small it be. 
Its faithful use, its utmost worth, 

God will require of thee. 

The humblest service rendered here 

He will as truly own 
As Paul's in his exalted sphere. 

Or Gabriel's near the throne. 

The cup of water kindly given, 
The widow's cheerful mites, 

Are worthier in the eye of heaven 
Than pride's most costly rites. 

His own, which He hath lent on trust, 

He asks of thee again; 
Little or much, the claim is just, 

And thine excuses vain. 



Go, then, and strive to do thy part — 
Though humble it may be; 

The ready hand, the willing heart. 
Are all heaven asks of thee. 

— William Cutler. 



ONE TALENT t^ 

(Matt. XXV. 1 8) 

In a napkin smooth and white, 
Hidden from all mortal sight, 
My one talent lies to-night. 

Mine to hoard, or mine to use; 
Mine to keep, or mine to lose; 
May I not do what I choose? 

Ah! the gift was only lent 
With the Giver's known intent 
That it should be wisely spent. 

And I know he will demand 
Every farthing at my hand. 
When I in his presence stand. 

What will be my grief and shame 
When I hear my humble name 
And cannot repay his claim! 

One poor talent — nothing more! 
All the years that have gone o'er 
Have not added to the store. 

Some will double what they hold. 

Others add to it tenfold 

And pay back the shining gold. 

Would that I had toiled like them! 
All my sloth I now condemn; 
Guilty fears my soul o'erwhelm. 

Lord, oh teach me what to do. 
Make me faithful, make me true. 
And the sacred trust renew. 

Help me, ere too late it be. 
Something yet to do for Thee, 
Thou who hast done all for me. 



Art thou little ? Do thy little well ; 

And for thy comfort know 
Great men can do their greatest work 

No better than just so. 

— ^Johann W. von Goethe. 



46 



DUTY 



RESPONSIBILITY FOR TALENTS 

Thou that in life's crowded city art ar- 
rived, thou knowest not how — 

By what path or on what errand — Hst 
and learn thine errand now. 

From the palace to the city on the busi- 
ness of thy King 

Thou wert sent at early morning, to re- 
turn at evening. 

Dreamer, waken ; loiterer, hasten ; what 

thy task is understand: 
Thou art here to purchase substance, 

and the price is in thine hand. 

Has the tumult of the market all thy 
sense confused and drowned? 

Do its glittering wares entice thee, or 
its shouts and cries confoimd? 

Oh, beware lest thy Lord's business be 
forgotten, while thy gaze 

Is on every show and pageant which the 
giddy square displays. 

Barter not his gold for pebbles; do not 

trade in vanities; 
Pearls there are of price and jewels for 

the purchase of the wise. 

And know this — at thy returning thou 
wilt surely find the King 

With an open book before Him, waiting 
to make reckoning. 

Thus large honors will the faithful, 
earnest service of one day 

Reap of Him ; but one day's folly largest 
penalties will pay. 

—Richard Chenevix Trench. 



Not once or twice in our fair island- 
story 
The path of duty was the way to glory. 
He, that ever following her commands, 
On with toil of heart and knees and 

hands, 
Thro' the long gorge to the far light 

has won 
His path upward, and prevailed, 
Shall find the toppling crags of Duty 

scaled 
Are close upon the shining table-lands 
To which our God himself is moon and 
sun. —Alfred Tennyson, 



GO RIGHT ON WORKING 

Ah, yes! the task is hard, 'tis true, 

But what's the use of sighing? 
They're soonest with their duties 
through 

Who bravely keep on trying. 
There's no advantage to be foimd 

In sorrowing or shirking; 
They with success are soonest crowned 

Who just go right on working. 

Strive patiently and with a will 

That shall not be defeated; 
Keep singing at your task until 

You see it stand completed. 
Nor let the clouds of doubt draw near. 

Your sky's glad sunshine murking; 
Be brave, and fill your heart with cheer, 

And just go right on working. 

— Nixon Waterman. 



JUSTICE ONLY 

Be not too proud of good deeds wrought! 

When thou art come from prayer, 
speak truly! 
Even if he wrongeth thee in aught, 

Respect thy Gviru. Give alms duly. 

But let none wist! Live, day by day, 
With little and with little swelling 

Thy tale of duty done — the way 

The wise ant-people build their dwel- 
ling; 

Not harming any living thing; 

That thou may'st have — at time of 
dying— 
A Hand to hold thee, and to bring 

Thy footsteps safe; and, so relying. 

Pass to the farther world. For none 
Save Justice leads there! Father, 
mother. 

Will not be nigh; nor wife, nor son. 
Nor friends, nor kin; nor any other 

Save only Justice! All alone 

Each entereth here, and each one 
leaveth 

This life alone; and every one 

The fniit of all his deeds receiveth 

Alone — alone; bad deeds and good! 

That day when kinsmen, sadly turn- 
ing, 
Forsake thee, like the clay or wood, 

A thing committed to the burning. 



DUTY 



47 



But Justice shall not quit thee then, 
If thou hast served her, therefore 
never 

Cease serving; that shall hold thee when 
The darkness falls which falls forever, 

Which hath no star, nor way and guide. 
But Justice knows the road; and mid- 
night 
Is noon to her. Man at her side 

Goes, through the gloom, safe to the 
hid light. 

And he who loved her more than all. 
Who purged by sorrow his offenses, 

Shall shine, in realms celestial. 

With glory, quit of sins and senses. 
— Edwin Arnold, from the Sanskrit. 



GOD'S VENGEANCE 

Saith the Lord, "Vengeance is mine;" 
"I will repay," saith the Lord; 

Ours be the anger divine. 
Lit by the flash of his word. 

How shall his vengeance be done? 

How, when his purpose is clear? 
Must he come down from the throne? 

Hath he no instruments here? 

Sleep not in imbecile trust, 

Waiting for God to begin; 
While, growing strong in the dust, 

Rests the bruised serpent of sin. 

Right and Wrong — both cannot live 
Death-grappled. Which shall we see ? 

Strike! Only Justice can give 
Safety to all that shall be. 

Shame! to stand faltering thus. 
Tricked by the balancing odds; 

Strike! God is waiting for us! 

Strike! for the vengeance is God's! 
— ^John Hay. 



Bear a lily in thy hand; 

Gates of brass cannot withstand 

One touch of that magic wand. 

Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, 
In thy heart the dew of youth, 
On thy lips the smile of truth. 

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



A SINGLE STITCH 

One stitch dropped as the weaver drove 

His nimble shuttle to and fro, 
In and out, beneath, above. 

Till the pattern seemed to bud and 

grow 
As if the fairies had helping been; 
One small stitch which co^d scarce be 

seen. 
But the one stitch dropped pulled the 

next stitch out, 
And a weak place grew in the fabric 

stout ; 
And the perfect pattern was marred for 

aye 
By the one small stitch that was dropped 

that day. 

One small life in God's great plan, 

How futile it seems as the ages roll, 
Do what it may or strive how it can 
To alter the sweep of the infinite 

whole ! 
A single stitch in an endless web, 
A drop in the ocean's flood and ebb! 
But the pattern is rent where the stitch 

is lost. 
Or marred where the tangled threads 

have crossed; 
And each life that fails of its true intent 
Mars the perfect plan that its Master 

meant. — Susan Coolidge. 



THE BLESSINGS 

An angel came from the courts of gold. 
With gifts and tidings manifold; 
With blessings many to crown the one 
Whose work of life was the noblest done. 

He came to a rich man's gilded door; 
Where a beautiful lady stood before 
His vision, fair as the saints are fair, 
With smile as sweet as the seraphs wear. 

He needed not to be told her life — 
The pure young mother, the tender wife ; 
He needed not to be told that she, 
In home of sorrow and poverty, 

Was giving wealth with a lavish hand; 
He thought her worthy in heaven to 

stand. 
"No! no!" a voice to the angel heart 
Spoke low: "Seek on in the busy mart." 



48 



DUTY 



He fomid a door that was worn and old ; 
The night was damp and the wind was 

cold. 
A pale-faced girl at her sewing bent; 
The midnight lamp to her features lent 

A paler look as she toiled the while, 
But yet the mouth had a restful smile. 
Doing her duty with honest pride; 
Breasting temptation on every side. 

"For her the blessings," the angel said, 
And touched with pity the girlish head. 
"No time nor money for alms has she, 
But duty is higher than charity." 

— Sarah Knowles Bolton. 



DUTIES 



I reach a duty, yet I do it not, 

And therefore see no higher; but, if 
done, 

My view is brightened and another spot 
Seen on my moral sim. 

For, be the duty high as angels' flight. 
Fulfill it, and a higher will arise 

E'en from its ashes. Duty is infinite — 
Receding as the skies. 

And thus it is the purest most deplore 
Their want of purity. As fold by fold, 

In duties done, falls from their eyes, the 
more 
Of duty they behold. 

Were it not wisdom, then, to close our 
eyes 
On duties crowding only to appal? 
No; duty is our ladder to the skies. 
And, climbing not, we fall. 

— Robert Leighton (1611-1684). 



WHAT SHE COULD 

"And do the hoiirs step fast or slow? 

And are ye sad or gay? 
And is your heart with your liege lord, 
lady. 

Or is it far away?" 

The lady raised her calm, proud head, 
Though her tears fell, one by one: 

"Life covmts not hours by joy or pangs, 
But just by duties done. 



"And when I lie in the green kirkyard, 
With the mould upon my breast, 

Say not that 'She did well — or ill,' 
Only, 'She did her best.'" 

— Dinah Maria Mulock Craik. 



UNWASTED DAYS 

The longer on this earth we live 

And weigh the various qualities of 
men, 
Seeing how most are fugitive 

Or fitful gifts at best, of now and 

then — 
Wind-favored corpse-lights, daugh- 
ters of the fen — 
The more we feel the high, stem-fea- 
tured beauty 
Of plain devotcdness to duty, 

Steadfast and still, nor paid with 
mortal praise. 
But finding amplest recompense 
For life's ungarlanded expense 
In work done squarely and tmwasted 
days. 

— ^James Russell Lowell. 



TRIFLES THAT MAKE SAINTS 

A tone of pride or petulance repressed 
A selfish inclination firmly fought, 
A shadow of annoyance set at naught, 
A measure of disquietude suppressed; 
A peace in importunity possessed, 
A reconcilement generously sought, 
A purpose put aside, a banished 
thought, 
A word of self-explaining unexpressed: 
Trifles they seem, these petty soul-re- 
straints, 
Yet he who proves them so must 

needs possess 
A constancy and courage grand and 
bold; 
They are the trifles that have made the 
saints. 
Give me to practice them in humble- 
ness 
And nobler power than mine doth no 
man hold. 



The world is full of beauty. 
As other worlds above; 

And if we did our dvity 
It might be full of love. 

— Gerald Massey. 



DUTY 



49 



What stronger breastplate than a heart 
imtainted? 

Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel 
just; 

And he but naked, though locked up in 
steel, 

Whose conscience with injustice is cor- 
rupted. 

— William Shakespeare. 



I slept, and dreamed that life was 

Beauty; 
I woke, and found that life was Duty. 
Was thy dream then, a shadowy lie? 
Toil on, sad heart, courageously, 
And thou shalt find that dream to be 
A noonday light and truth to thee. 
— Ellen Sturgis Hooper. 



Do thy duty; that is best; 
Leave unto thy Lord the rest. 
— James Russell Lowell. 



While I sought Happiness she fled 

Before me constantly. 
Weary, I turned to Duty's f)ath. 

And Happiness sought me. 
Saying, "I walk this road to-day, 

I'll bear thee company." 



So nigh is grandeur to our dust, 

So near is God to man. 
When Duty whispers low, "Thou must, 

The youth replies, "I can." 

Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



Faithfully faithful to every trust, 
Honestly honest in every deed, 

Righteously righteous and justly just; 
This is the whole of the good man's 
creed. 



Find out what God would have you do. 

And do that little well; 
For what is great and what is small 

'Tis only he can tell. 



SERVICE 

USEFULNESS, BENEVOLENCE, LABOR 



WAKING 

I have done at length with dreaming; 

Henceforth, O thou soul of mine! 
Thou must take up sword and buckler, 

Waging warfare most divine. 

Life is struggle, combat, victory! 

Wherefore have I slumbered on 
With my forces all immarshaled, 

With my weapons all vmdrawn? 

how many a glorious record 
Had the angels of me kept 

Had I done instead of doubted. 
Had I warred instead of wept! 

But begone, regret, bewailing! 
Ye had weakened at the best; 

1 have tried the trusty weapons 
Resting erst within my breast. 

I have wakened to my duty. 

To a knowledge strong and deep, 

That I recked not of aforetime. 
In my long inglorious sleep. 

For the end of life is service, 

And I felt it not before, 
And I dreamed not how stupendous 

Was the meaning that it bore. 

In this subtle sense of being. 
Newly stirred in every vein, 

I can feel a throb electric — 
Pleasure half allied with pain. 

'Tis so sweet, and yet so awful. 

So bewildering, yet brave. 
To be king in every conflict 

Where before I crouched a slave! 

'Tis so glorious to be consciovts 

Of a growing power within 
Stronger than the rallying forces 

Of a charged and marshaled sin! 



Never in those old romances 
Felt I half the thrill of life 

That I feel within me stirring. 
Standing in this place of strife. 

O those olden days of dalliance. 
When I wantoned with my fate; 

When I trifled with the knowledge 
That had well-nigh come too late. 

Yet, my soul, look not behind thee; 

Thou hast work to do at last; 
Let the brave toil of the present 

Overarch the crumbling past. 

Build thy great acts high and higher; 

Build them on the conquered sod 
Where thy weakness first fell bleeding. 

And thy first prayer rose to God. 
— Caroline Atherton Mason. 



SMALL BEGINNINGS 

A traveler through a dusty road strewed 

acorns on the lea; 
And one took root and sprouted up, and 

grew into a tree. 
Love sought its shade, at evening time, 

to breathe its early vows; 
And age was pleased, in heat of noon, 

to bask beneath its boughs; 
The dormouse loved its dangling twigs 

the birds sweet music bore; 
It stood a glory in its place, a blessing 

evermore. 

A little spring had lost its way amid the 

grass and fern, 
A passing stranger scooped a well where 

weary men might turn; 
He walled it in, and hung with care a 

ladle at the brink; 
He thought not of the deed he did, but 

judged that toil might drink. 



50 



SERVICE 



51 



He passed again, and lo! the well, by 

summers never dried, 
Had cooled ten thousand parching 

tongues, and saved a life beside. 

A dreamer dropped a random thought; 

'twas old, and yet 'twas new; 
A simple fancy of the brain, but strong 

in being true. 
It shone upon a genial mind, and lo! its 

light became 
A lamp of life, a beacon ray, a monitory 

flame. 
The thought was small; its issue great; 

a watchfire on the hill. 
It shed its radiance far ad own, and 

cheers the valley still! 

A nameless man, amid the crowd that 
thronged the daily mart, 

Let fall a word of Hope and Love, un- 
studied, from the heart; 

A whisper on the tumult thrown — a 
transitory breath — 

It raised a brother from the dust; it 
saved a soul from death. 

O germ! O fotint! O word of love! O 
thought at random cast! 

Ye were but little at the first, but 
mighty at the last! 

— Charles Mackay. 



THE CHOIR INVISIBLE 

O may I join the choir invisible 

Of those immortal dead who live again 

In minds made better by their presence ; 

live 
In pulses stirred to generosity. 
In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn 
For miserable aims that end with self, 
In thoughts sublime that pierce the 

night like stars. 
And with their mild persistence urge 

man's search 
To vaster issues. 

So to live is heaven: 
To make undying music in the world. 
Breathing as beauteous order that con- 
trols 
With growing sway the growing life of 

man. 
So we inherit that sweet purity 
For which we struggled, failed and 

agonized. 
With widening retrospect that bred de- 
spair. 
Rebellious flesh that would not be sub- 
dued, 



A vicious parent shaming still its child 
Poor, anxious penitence, is qviick dis- 
solved ; 
Its discords, quenched by meeting har- 
monies, 
Die in the large and charitable air. 
And all our rarer, better, truer, self. 
That sobbed religiously in yearning 

song, 
That watched to ease the burden of the 

world, 
Laboriously tracing what must be, 
And what may yet be better — saw 

within 
A worthier image for the sanctuary. 
And shaped it forth before the multitude 
Divinely human, raising worship so 
To higher reverence more mixed with 

love — 
That better self shall live till human 

Time 
Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky 
Be gathered like a scroll within the 

tomb. 
Unread forever. 

This is life to come. 
Which martyred men have made more 

glorious 
For us who strive to follow. May I 

reach 
That purest heaven, be to other souls 
The cup of strength in some great agony, 
Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure 

love. 
Beget the smiles that have no cruelty — 
Be the sweet presence of a good diffused. 
And in diffusion ever more intense. 
So shall I join the choir invisible 
Whose music is the gladness of the world. 
— George Eliot. 



MY TASK 



To love some one more dearly ev'ry 

day, 
To help a wandering child to find his 

way. 
To ponder o'er a noble thought, and 

pray. 
And smile when evening falls. 

To follow truth as blind men long for 

light, 
To do my best from dawn of day till 

night, 
To keep my heart fit for His holy sight. 
And answer when He calls. 

— Maude Louise Ray. 



52 



SERVICE 



"IT IS MORE BLESSED" 

Give I as the morning that flows oitt of 

heaven ; 
Give! as the waves when their channel 

is riven; 
Give I as the free air and sunshine are 

given ; 
Lavishly, utterly, joyftiUy give! 
Not the waste drops of thy cup over- 
flowing; 
Not the faint sparks of thy hearth, ever 

glowing; 
Not a pale bud from the June roses 

blowing: 
Give as He gave thee who gave thee 

to live. 

Pour out thy love like the rush of a river. 
Wasting its waters, forever and ever. 
Through the burnt sands that reward 
not the giver: 
Silent or songful, thou nearest the sea. 
Scatter thy life as the summer's shower 

pouring; 
What if no bird through the pearl rain 

is soaring? 
What if no blossom looks upward ador- 
ing? 
Look to the life that was lavished for 
thee! 

So the wild wind strews its perfumed 
caresses : 

Evil and thankless the desert it blesses; 

Bitter the wave that its soft pinion 
presses ; 
Never it ceaseth to whisper and sing. 

What if the hard heart give thorns for 
thy roses? 

What if on rocks thy tired bosom re- 
poses? 

Sweeter is music with minor-keyed 
closes. 
Fairest the vines that on ruin will cling. 

Almost the day of thy giving is over; 
Ere from the grass dies the bee-haunted 

clover 
Thou wilt have vanished from friend and 

from lover: 
What shall thy longing avail in the 

grave ? 
Give as the heart gives whose fetters are 

breaking — 
Life, love, and hope, all thy dreams and 

thy waking; 
Soon, heaven's river thy soul-fever slak- 
ing, 
Thou shalt know God and the gift that 

he gave. — Rose Terry Cooke. 



ALONG THE WAY 



There arc so many helpful things to do 

Along life's way 
(Helps to the helper, if we did but know) , 

From day to day. 
So many troubled hearts to soothe. 
So many pathways rough to smooth, 
So many comforting words to say. 
To the hearts that falter along the way. 

Here is a lamp of hope gone out 

Along the way. 
Some one stumbled and fell, no doubt — 

But, brother, stay! 
Out of thy store of oil refill; 
Kindle the courage that smoulders still ; 
Think what Jesus would do to-day 
For one who had fallen beside the way. 

How many lifted hands still plead 

Along life's way! 
The old, sad story of human need 

Reads on for aye. 
But let us follow the Saviour's plan — 
Love unstinted to every man; 
Content if, at most, the world should 

say: 
" He helped his brother along the way ! " 



SAVED TO SERVE 

Is thy crvise of comfort failing? 

Rise and share it with another. 
And through all the years of famine 

It shall serve thee and thy brother. 

Love divine will fill thy storehouse 
Or thy handful still renew; 

Scanty fare for one will often 
Make a royal feast for two. 

For the heart grows rich in giving — 
All its wealth is living gain; 

Seeds which mildew in the gamer 
Scattered fill with gold the plain. 

Is thy burden hard and heavy? 

Do thy steps drag wearily? 
Help to bear thy brother's burden; 

God will bear both it and thee. 

Numb and weary on the mountains, 
Wouldst thou sleep amidst the snow? 

Chafe that frozen form beside thee, 
And together both shall glow. 



SERVICE 



53 



Art thou stricken in life's battle? 

Many wounded round thee moan : 
Lavish on their woimds thv balsam, 

And that balm shall heal thine own. 

Is thy heart a well left empty? 

None but God the void can fill. 
Nothing but the ceaseless Fountain 

Can its ceaseless longings still. 

Is the heart a living power? 

Self-entwined its strength sinks low. 
It can only live in loving, 

And by serving love will grow. 



BY DOING GOOD WE LIVE 

A certain wise man, deeply versed 
In all the learning of the East, 

Grew tired in spirit, and athirst 
From life to be released. 

So to Eliab, holy man 

Of God he came : " Ah, give me, friend, 
The herb of death, that now the span 

Of my vain life may end." 

Eliab gently answered: "Ere 
The soul may free itself indeed, 

This herb of healing thou must bear 
To seven men in need; 

" When thou hast lightened each man's 
grief. 

And brought him hope and joy again, 
Return; nor shalt thou seek relief 

At Allah's hands in vain." 

The wise man sighed, and humbly said: 
"As Allah willeth, so is best." 

And with the healing herb he sped 
Away upon his quest. 

And as he journeyed on, intent 
To serve the sorrowing in the land 

On deeds of love and mercy bent. 
The herb bloomed in his hand, 

And through his pulses shot a fire 
Of strength and hope and happiness; 

His heart leaped with a glad desire 
To live and serve and bless. 

Lord of all earthly woe and need, 
Be this, life's flower, mine! 

To love, to comfort, and to heal — 
Therein is life divine! 

— Josephine Troup. 



FOR STRENGTH WE ASK 

l'\)r strength wo ask 
For the ten thousand times repeated 
task. 
The endless smallnesses of every day. 

No, not to lay 

My life down in the cause I cherish 

most, 
That were too easy. But, whate'er it 
cost. 
To fail no more 

In gentleness toward the ungentle, nor 
In love toward the unlovely, and to 
give, 

Each day I live, 

To every hour with outstretched hand, 

its meed 
Of not-to-be-regretted thought and 
deed. 

— Agnes Ethel wyn Wetherald. 



MARTHA OR MARY? 

I cannot choose; I should have liked so 

much 
To sit at Jesus* feet — to feel the touch 
Of his kind gentle hand upon my head 
While drinking in the gracious words 

he said. 

And yet to serve Him I — Oh, divine em- 
ploy- 
To minister and give the Master joy; 
To bathe in coolest springs his weary 

feet, 
And wait upon Him while He sat at 
meat! 

Worship or service — which? Ah, that is 

best 
To which he calls us, be it toil or rest; 
To labor for Him in life's busy stir, 
Or seek His feet, a silent worshiper. 
— Caroline Atherton Mason. 



This is the gospel of labor — ring it, ye 

bells of the kirk — 
The Lord of Love came down from above 

to live with the men who work. 
This is the rose that he planted, here in 

the thorn-cursed soil; 
Heaven is blest with perfect rest, but 

the blessing of earth is toil. 

— Henry van Dyke. 



54 



SERVICE 



MARTHA 

Yes, Lord, Yet some must serve! 

Not all with tranquil heart, 
Even at Thy dear feet, 
Wrapped in devotion sweet, 

May sit apart! 

Yes, Lord! Yet some must bear 

The burden of the day, 
Its labor and its heat, 
While others at Thy feet 

May muse and pray. 

Yes, Lord! Yet some must do 
Life's daily task-work; some 
Who fain would sing must toil 
Amid earth's dust and moil, 
While lips are dumb! 

Yes, Lord! Yet man must earn 
And woman bake the bread; 

And some must watch and wake 

Early for others' sake. 
Who pray instead! 

Yes, Lord ! Yet even thou 

Hast need of earthly care; 
I bring the bread and wine 
To Thee a Guest divine — 
Be this my prayer! 

— ^Julia Caroline Ripley Dorr. 



If we sit down at set of sun 

And count the things that we have done, 

And coimting, find 
One self-denying act, one word 
That eased the heart of him who heard. 

One glance most kind. 
That fell like sunshine where it went. 
Then we may count the day well spent. 

But if through all the livelong day 
We've eased no heart by yea or nay; 

If through it all 
We've nothing done that we can trace 
That brought the sunshine to a face. 

No act most small 
That helped some soul, and nothing cost, 
Then count that day as worse than lost. 



This for the day of life I ask: 
Some all-absorbing, useful task; 
And when 'tis wholly, truly done, 
A tranquil rest at set of sun. 



SERVICE 

Ah! grand is the world's work, and noble, 
forsooth. 
The doing one's part, be it ever so 
small ! 
You, reaping with Boaz, I, gleaning with 
Ruth, 
Are honored by serving, yet servants 
of all. 

No drudge in his comer but speeds the 
world's wheels; 
No serf in the field but is sowing God's 
seed — 
More noble, I think, in the dust though 
he kneels. 
Than the pauper of wealth, who 
makes scorn of the deed. 

Is toil but a treadmill? Think not of 
the grind, 
But think of the grist, what is done 
and to do, 
The world growing better, more like to 
God's mind, 
By long, faithful labor of helpers like 
you. 

The broom or the spade or the shuttle, 
that plies 
Its own honest task in its own honest 
way. 
Serves heaven not less than a star in 
the skies — 
What more could the Pleiades do than 
obey? — ^James Buckham. 



SUMMER AND WINTER 

If no kindly thought or word 

We can give, some soul to bless, 
If our hands, from hour to hour, 

Do no deeds of gentleness; 
If to lone and weary ones 

We no comfort will impart — 
Tho' 'tis summer in the sky. 

Yet 'tis winter in the heart! 

If we strive to lift the gloom 

From a dark and burdened life; 
If we seek to lull the storm 

Of our fallen brother's strife; 
If we bid all hate and scorn 

From the spirit to depart — 
Tho' 'tis winter in the sky, 

Yet 'tis summer in the heart! 



SERVICE 



55 



THE ELEVENTH-HOUR LABORER 

Idlers all day about the market-place 
They name us, and our dumb lips 
answer not, 
Bearing the bitter while our sloth's dis- 
grace, 
And our dark tasking whereof none 
may wot. 

Oh, the fair slopes where the grape- 
gatherers go! — 
Not they the day's fierce heat and 
burden bear. 
But we who on the market-stones drop 
slow 
Our barren tears, while all the bright 
hours wear. 

Lord of the vineyard, whose dear word 
declares 
Our one hour's labor as the day's shall 
be. 
What coin divine can make our wage 
as theirs 
Who had the morning joy of work for 
Thee? 

— L. Gray Noble. 



"THY LABOR IS NOT IN VAIN" 

"I have labored in vain," a preacher 
said. 
And his brow was marked with care; 
"I have labored in vain." He bowed 

down his head. 
And bitter and sad were the tears he 
shed 
In that moment of dark despair. 

"I am weary and worn, and my hands 
are weak, 

And my courage is well-nigh gone; 
For none give heed to the words I speak, 
And in vain for a promise of fruit I seek 

Where the seed of the Word is sown." 

And again with a sorrowful heart he 
wept, 
For his spirit with grief was stirred, 
Till the night grew dark, and at last he 

slept. 
And a silent calm o'er his spirit crept, 
And a whisper of "peace" was heard. 

And he thought in his dream that his 
soul took flight 
To a blessed and bright abode; 



He saw a throne of dazzling light, 
And harps were ringing, and robes were 
white — 
Made white in a Saviour's blood. 

And he saw such a countless throng 
around 
As he never had seen before, 
Their brows with jewels of light were 

crowned. 
And sorrow and sighing no place had 
found — 
The troubles of time were o'er. 

Then a white-robed maiden came forth 
and said, 

"Joy! Joy! for the trials are passed! 
I am one that thy gentle words have led 
In the narrow pathway of life to tread — 

I welcome thee home at last!" 

And the preacher gazed on the maiden's 
face — 
He had seen that face on earth, 
Where, with anxious heart, in his 

wonted place 
He had told his charge of a Saviour's 
grace. 
And their need of a second birth. 

Then the preacher smiled, and the angel 
said, 

"Go forth to thy work again; 
It is not in vain that the seed is shed — 
If only ONE soul to the cross is led. 

Thy labor is not in vain." 

And at last he woke, and his knee he 
bent 
In grateful, childlike prayer. 
And he prayed till an answer of peace 

was sent. 
And Faith and Hope as a rainbow bent 
O'er the clouds of his earthly care. 

And he rose in joy, and his eye was 
bright. 
His sorrow and grief had fled, 
And his soul was calm and his heart was 

light, 
For his hands were strong in his 
Saviour's might 
As forth to his work he sped. 



Whatever dies, or is forgot — 
Work done for God, it dieth not. 



56 



SERVICE 



FOLLOWING THE MASTER 

1 asked the Lord that. I inijjhL woiihirr 

be, 
Mijjjht. prow in faith ami hope ami 

charity; 
And straij^ht, "Go feed my lambs!" he 

answered me. 

"Nay, Lord!" I cried. "Can outward 

deeds avail 
To cleanse my spirit? Heart and xour- 

a);e fail 
And sins prevent, and foes and fears 

assail. ' 

And still, "Go, feed my lambs!" was all 

I heard. 
But should I rest upon that simple word ? 
Was that, indeed, mv messa>;e from mv 

Lord? 

Behold, I thought that he his hand 

would lay 
On my sick soul, and words of healinj; 

sav. 
And charm the ])lagne-spot from my 

heart away. 

Half wroth, I turned to go; but oh! the 

look 
He on me cast — a gaze I could ikU 

brook ; 
With deep relen tings all my spirit shook. 

"O dearest Lord," I cried, "I will obey, 
Say what thou wilt! only lead thou the 

way; 
For, following thee, mj' footsteps shall 

not stray. ' ' 

He took me at my word. He w^Mit be- 
fore ; 

He led me to the dwellings of the 
poor. 

Where wolf-eyed Want keeps watch be- 
side the door. 

He beckoned me, and I essayed to go 
Where Sin and Crime, more sad than 

Want and Woe, 
Hold carni\-al, and Vice walks to and 

fro. 

And when I faltered at the sight. He 

said, 
"Behold, I died for such! These hands 

have bled, 
This side for such has pierced been," he 

said. 



"Is the disciple greater than his Lord? 
The servant than his Master?" Oh, 

that word! 
It smote me like a sharp, two-edged 

sword I 

And since that hour, if any work of 

mine 
Has been accepted by my Lord assign 
'I'hat I was following ni his steps divine; 

If, serving others (though imperfectly), 
My own poor life has worthier come to 

be. 
And I have grown in faith and charity. 

Dear Lord, be thine the glory I Thou hast 

wrought, 
All miaware, the blessing that I sought. 
O that these lii)S might praise thee as 

they ought! 



BE ALWAYS GIVING 

The sun gives ever; so the earth — 
What it can give so much 'tis worth; 
The ocean gi\es in many ways — 
(lives baths, gives fishes, rivers, bays; 
So, too, the air, it gives us breath. 
When it stops giving, comes in death. 

Give, give, be always giving; 

Who gives not is not living; 
'IMie more you give 
The more you live. 

God's love hath in us wealth unheaped 

Only by giving it is reaped; 

The body withers, and the mind 

Is jient U]) by a selfish rind. 

Give strength, give thought, give deeds, 

give pelf. 
Give love, give tears, and give thyself. 
Give, give, be always giving, 
Who gives not is not living; 
The more we gi\^e 
The more we live. 



Slightest actions often meet the sorest 

needs. 
For the world wants daily little kindly 

deeds ; 
O, what care and sorrow you may help 

remove 
With your song and courage, sympathy 

and love. 



SERVICE 



57 



NOT LOST 

The look of sympathy; the gentle word 
Spoken so low that only angels heard; 
The secret act of pure self-sacrifice, 
Unseen by men, but marked by angels' 
eyes; 
These arc not lost. 

The silent tears that fall at deail of night 
Over soiled robes that once were pure 

and white; 
The prayers that rise like incense from 

the soul. 
Longing for Christ to make it clean and 

whole ; 
These are not lost. 

The happy dreams that gladdened all 

our youth, 
When dreams had less of self and more 

of truth; 
The childhood's faith, so tranquil and so 

sweet, 
Which sat like Mary at the Master's 

feet ; 
These are not lost. 

The kindly plans devised for others' 

good. 
So seldom guessed, so little understood; 
The quiet, steadfast love that strove to 

win 
Some wanderer from the ways of sin; 
These are not lost. 

Not lost, O Lord ! for in Thy city bright 
Our eyes shall see the past by clearer 

light. 
And tnings long hidden from our gaze 

below 
Thou wilt reveal, and we shall surely 

know 
They were not lost. 



There's never a rose in all the world 

But makes some green spray sweeter; 
There's never a wind in all the sky 

But makes some bird wing fleeter; 
There's never a star but brings to heaven 

Some silver radiance tender; 
And never a rosy cloud but helps 

To crown the sunset splendor; 
No robin but may thrill some heart. 

His dawn like gladness voicing; 
God gives us all some small sweet way 

To set the world rejoicing. 



A BROADER FIELD 

O thou who sighest for a broader lield 
Wherein to sow the seeds of truth and 
right— 
Who fain a fuller, nobler power would 
wield 
O'er human souls that languish for 
the light — 

Searcli well the realm that even now is 
thine! 

Canst not thou in some far-off corner 
find 

A heart sin-bound, like ti^ee with sapping 
vine. 
Waiting for help its burdens to un- 
bind? 

Some human plant, perchance beneath 
thine eyes. 
Pierced through with hidden thorns 
of idle fears; 
Or drooping low for need of light from 
skies 
Obscured by doubt-clouds raining 
poison tears? 

Some bruised soul the balm of love 
would heal; 
Some timid spirit faith would courage 
give ; 
Or maimed brother, who, though brave 
and leal. 
Still needeth thee, to rightly walk and 
live? 

O while one soul thou findest which hath 
not known 
The fullest help thy soul hath power 
to give. 
Sigh not for fields still broader than 
thine own. 
But, steadfast in thine own, more 
broadly live. 

— ^Julia Anna Wolcott. 



Be it health or be it leisure. 
Be it skill we have to give. 

Still in spending it for others 
Christians only really live. 

Not in having or receiving. 
But in giving, there is bliss; 

He who has no other pleasure 
Ever may rejoice in this. 



58 



SERVICE 



WHAT CHRIST SAID 



I said, "Let me walk in the fields." 
He said, "No, walk in the town." 

I said, "There are no flowers there." 
He said, "No flowers, but a crown." 

I said, "But the skies are black; 

There is nothing but noise and din." 
And He wept as he sent me back; 

"There is more," He said; "there is 
sin." 

I said, "But the air is thick. 
And fogs are veiling the sun." 

He answered, "Yet souls are sick. 
And souls in the dark undone." 

I said, "I shall miss the light. 

And friends will miss me, they say." 

He answered, "Choose to-night 
If / am to miss you, or they." 

I pleaded for time to be given. 

He said, "Is it hard to decide? 
It will not seem hard in heaven 

To have followed the steps of your 
Guide." 

I cast one look at the fields, 
Then set my face to the town; 

He said, " My child, do you yield? 
Will you leave the flowers for the 
crown? " 

Then into His hand went mine, 
And into my heart came He; 

And I walk in a light divine 
The path I had feared to see. 

— George Macdonald. 



MY SERVICE 

I asked the Lord to let me do 
Some mighty work for Him; 

To fight amid His battle hosts. 
Then sing the victor's hymn. 

I longed my ardent love to show. 

But Jesus would not have it so. 

He placed me in a quiet home, 
Whose life was calm and still, 

And gave me little things to do, 
My daily round to fill; 

I could not think it good to be 

Just put aside so silently. 



Small duties gathered rotmd my way, 
They seemed of earth alone; 

I, who had longed for conquests bright 
To lay before His throne. 

Had common things to do and bear, 

To watch and strive with daily care. 

So then I thought my prayer unheard, 
And asked the Lord once more 

That He would give me work for Him 
And open wide the door; 

Forgetting that my Master knew 

Just what was best for me to do. 

Then quietly the answer came, 
"My child, I hear thy cry; 

Think not that mighty deeds alone 
Will bring the victory. 

The battle has been planned by Me, 

Let daily life thy conquests see." 



PASS IT ON 



Have you had a kindness shown? 

Pass it on. 
It was not given to you alone. 

Pass it on. 
Let it travel through the years; 
Let it wipe another's tears; 
Till in heaven the deed appears, 

Pass it on. 

Have you found the heavenly light? 

Pass it on. 
Souls are groping in the night. 

Daylight gone. 
Lift your lighted lamp on high. 
Be a star in some one's sky, 
He may live who else would die. 

Pass it on. 



GIVING AND TAKING 

Who gives, and hides the giving hand, 
Nor counts on favor, fame, or praise. 
Shall find his smallest gift outweighs 

The burden of the sea and land. 

Who gives to whom hath naught been 
given, 
His gift in need, though small indeed 
As is the grass-blade's wind-blown 
seed, 
Is large as earth and rich as heaven. 
— John Greenleaf Whittier, from Tinne- 
valuna of India. 



SERVICE 



59 



ONE PATH TO LIGHT 

What is the world ? A wandering maze, 
Where sin hath tracked a thousand 
ways 

Her victims to ensnare. 
All broad and winding and aslope, 
All tempting with perfidious hope. 

All ending in despair. 
Millions of pilgrims throng those roads. 
Bearing their baubles or their loads 

Down to eternal night. 
One only path that never bends, 
Narrow and rough and steep, ascends 

Through darkness into light. 
Is there no guide to show that path? 
The Bible. He alone that hath 

The Bible need not stray. 
But he who hath and will not give 
That light of life to all that live, 

Himself shall lose the way. 



IF WE COULD ONLY SEE 

It were not hard, we think, to serve Him 
If we could only see! 

If he would stand with that gaze intense 

Burning into our bodily sense. 

If we might look on that face most ten- 
der, 

The brows where the scars are turned 
to splendor. 

Might catch the light of his smile so 
sweet, 

And view the marks on his hands and 
feet, 
How loyal we should be! 

It were not hard, we think, to serve him. 
If we could only see! 

It were not hard, he says, to see him. 

If we would only serve; 
"He that doeth the will of Heaven, 
To him shall knowledge and sight be 

given." 
While for his presence we sit repining, 
Never we see his countenance shining; 
They who toil where his reapers be 
The glow of his smile may always see. 

And their faith can never swerve. 
It were not hard, he says, to see him, 

If we would only serve. 



Think not in sleep to fold thy hands. 
Forgetful of thy Lord's commands. 
From Duty's claims no life is free, 
Behold! To-day has need of thee. 



WHEN YOU DO AN ACT 

You can never tell when you do an act 

Just what the result will be; 
But with every deed you are sowing a 
seed, 

Though its harvest you may not see. 
Each kindly act is an acorn dropped 

In God's productive soil; 
Though you may not know, yet the tree 
shall grow 

And shelter the brows that toil. 



YOUR MISSION 

If you cannot on the ocean 

Sail among the swiftest fleet, 
Rocking on the highest billows, 

Laughing at the storms you meet; 
You can stand among the sailors 

Anchored yet within the bay; 
You can lend a hand to help them 

As they launch their boat away. 

If you are too weak to journey 

Up the mountain steep and high, 
You can stand within the valley 

While the multitudes go by; 
You can chant in happy measure 

As they slowly pass along; 
Though they may forget the singer 

They will not forget the song. 

If you have not gold and silver 

Ever ready to command; 
If you cannot toward the needy, 

Reach an ever-open hand; 
You can visit the afflicted. 

O'er the erring you can weep; 
You can be a true disciple 

Sitting at the Saviour's feet. 

If you cannot in the harvest 

Gamer up the richest sheaves, 
Many a grain both ripe and golden 

Will the careless reapers leave; 
Go and glean among tne briers 

Growing rank against the wall. 
For it may be that their shadow 

Hides tne heaviest wheat of all. 

If you cannot in the conflict 

Prove yourself a soldier true, 
If where fire and smoke are thickest 

There's no work for you to do; 
When the battle-field is silent 

You can go with careful tread: 
You can bear away the wounded. 

You can cover up the dead. 



6o 



SERVICE 



If you cannot be the watchman, 

Standing high on Zion's wall, 
Pointing out the path to heaven. 

Offering life and peace to all; 
With your prayers and with your boun- 
ties 

You can do what Heaven demands, 
You can be like faithful Aaron, 

Holding up the prophet's hands. 

Do not, then, stand idly waiting 

For some greater work to do; 
Fortune is a lazy goddess — 

She will never come to you. 
Go and toil in any vineyard. 

Do not fear to do or dare; 
If you want a field of labor 

You can find it anywhere. 

— G. M. Grannis. 



THE FAITHFUL MONK 

Golden gleams of noonday fell 
On the pavement of the cell. 
And the monk still lingered there 
In the ecstasy of prayer; 
Fixller floods of glory streamed 
Through the window, and it seemed 
Like an answering glow of love 
From the countenance above. 

On the silence of the cell 
Break the faint tones of a bell. 
'Tis the hour when at the gate 
Crowds of poor and himgry wait, 
Wan and wistful, to be fed 
With the friar of mercy's bread. 

Hark! that chime of heaven's far bells! 
On the monk's rapt ear it swells, 
No! fond, flattering dream, away! 
Mercy calls; no longer stay! 
Whom thou yeamest here to find 
In the musings of thy mind, 
God and Jesus, lo, they wait 
Knocking at thy convent gate! 

From his knees the monk arose; 
With full heart and hand he goes, 
At his gate the poor relieves, 
Gains a blessing and receives; 
To his cell returned, and there 
Found the angel of his prayer, 
Who with radiant features said, 
"Hadst thou stayed I must have fled." 
— Charles Timothy Brooks. 



THE HEAVENLY PRESENCE 

Somewhere I have read of an aged monk 
Who, kneeling one day in his cell, 

Beheld in a glorious vision the form 
Of the dear Lord Christ ; and there fell 

Upon him a rapture, wondrously sweet. 

And his lips could frame no word. 
As he gazed on the form and noted the 
love 
That beamed from the face of his 
Lord. 



There came to his ears the sotmd of a 
bell 

Which called him early and late 
To carry loaves to the wretched poor 

Who lingered about the gate. 

Could he leave his cell now glorified 
By the presence of the Christ, 

The Blessed Son, the Holy One, 
His Saviour, the Sacrificed? 

He went to his act of mercy, and when 
He returned to his cell, the dim 

Gay light was dispelled as the loving 
Christ 
Re-entered to welcome him. 

And the Blessed One remained, more 
fair. 
More glorious than before, 
And the heart of the aged monk was 
glad. 
And his cell was dim no more. 



" Draw nigh and abide with me, O Christ, 
All through this day," is the prayer 

Which sounds from my heart, and my 
lips repeat 
Each morning, and Christ, the Fair, 

Seems very near as his words I hear. 
Though his form I do not see; 

"When you care for the least of these, 
dear child. 
You have done it unto me. 

"With loving service fill all this day, 
Do good in the name of your Lord, 

And I will be near, your heart to cheer. 
According to my word." 

— William Norris Burr. 



SERVICE 



6i 



ONLY 

It was only a blossom, 

Just the merest bit of bloom, 

But it brought a glimpse of summer 
To the little darkened room. 

It was only a glad "good morning," 
As she passed along the way; 

But it spread the morning's glory- 
Over the livelong day. 

Only a song; but the music, 

Though simply pure and sweet. 

Brought back to better pathways 
The reckless roving feet. 

"Only," in our blind wisdom, 

How dare we say at all? 
Since the ages alone can tell us 

Which is the great or small. 



SOMETHING YOU CAN DO 

Hark! the voice of Jesus calling, 

"Who will go and work to-day? 
Fields are white and harvests waiting, 

Who will bear the sheaves away ? ' ' 
Loud and long the Master calleth. 

Rich reward he offers free; 
Who will answer, gladly saying, 

"Here am I, send me, send me." 

If you cannot cross the ocean 

And the heathen lands explore, 
You can find the heathen nearer. 

You can help them at your door; 
If you cannot give your thousands 

You can give the widow's mite; 
And the least you give for Jesus 

Will be precious in his sight. 

If you cannot speak like angels, 

If you cannot preach like Paul, 
You can tell the love of Jesus, 

You can say he died for all. 
If you cannot rouse the wicked 

With the Judgment's dread alarms. 
You can lead the little children 

To the Saviour's waiting arms. 

Let none hear you idly saying 

"There is nothing I can do," 
While the sons of men are dying. 

And the Master calls for you. 
Take the task he gives you gladly. 

Let his work your pleasure be; 
Answer quickly, when he calleth, 

"Here am I, send me, send me." 
— Daniel March. 



SEEDTIME 

Sow thou thy seed! 
Glad is the light of Spring — the sun is 
glowing. 

Do thou thy deed : 
Who knows when flower or deed shall 
cease its growing? 

Thy seed may be 
Bearer of thousands scattered far and 
near; 

Eternity 
May feel the impress of the deed done 
here. — Arthur L. Salmon. 



TOIL A BLESSING 

The toil of brain, or heart, or hand, 

Is man's appointed lot; 
He who God's call can understand 

Will work and miu-mur not. 
Toil is no thorny crown of pain. 

Bound round man's brow for sin; 
True souls, from it, all strength may 
gain. 

High manliness may win, 

O God! who workest hitherto. 

Working in all we see. 
Fain woiild we be, and bear, and do. 

As best it pleaseth thee. 
Where'er thou sendest we will go, 

Nor any questions ask, 
And that thou biddest we will do. 

Whatever be the task. 

Our skill of hand, and strength of limb, 

Are not our own, but thine; 
We link them to the work of Him 

Who made all life divine. 
Our brother-friend, thy holy Son, 

Shared all our lot and strife; 
And nobly will our work be done 

If molded by his life. 

— Thomas W. Freckelton. 



No service in itself is small; 

None great, though earth it fill; 
But that is small that seeks its own. 

And great that seeks God's will. 

Then hold my hand, most gracious God, 

Guide all my goings still; 
And let it be my life's one aim. 

To know and do thy will. 



62 



SERVICE 



EASILY GIVEN 

It was only a sunny smile, 

And little it cost in the giving; 
But it scattered the night 
Like morning light, 
And made the day worth living. 
Through life's dull warp a woof it wove, 
In shining colors of light and love. 
And the angels smiled as they watched 
above. 
Yet little it cost in giving. 

It was only a kindly word, 

And a word that was lightly spoken; 
Yet not in vain. 
For it stilled the pain 
Of a heart that was nearly broken. 
It strengthened a fate beset by fears 
And groping blindly through mists of 

tears 
For light to brighten the coming years. 
Although it was lightly spoken. 

It was only a helping hand, 

And it seemed of little availing; 
But its clasps were warm, 
And it saved from harm 
A brother whose strength was failing. 
Its touch was tender as angels' wings, 
But it rolled the stone from the hidden 

springs, 
And pointed the way to higher things, 
Though it seemed of little availing. 

A smile, a word, a touch, 
And each is easily given; 
Yet one may win 
A soul from sin 
Or smooth the way to heaven. 
A smile may lighten a falling heart, 
A word may soften pain's keenest smart, 
A touch may lead us from sin apart — 
How easily each is given! 



WORKING WITH CHRIST 

O matchless honor, all unsought, 

High privilege, surpassing thought 

That thou shouldst call us. Lord, to be 

Linked in work-fellowship with thee! 

To carry out thy wondrous plan. 

To bear thy messages to man; 

"In trust," with Christ's own word of 

grace 
To every soul of human race. 



THE "NEW LOGION" 

"Jesus saith," and His deep Saying who 

shall rightly understand. 
Rescued from the grasp of ages, risen 

from its grave of sand? 
Who shall read its mystic meaning, who 

explain its import high: 
" Raise the stone and thou shalt find Me, 

cleave the wood and there am I"? 

Does it mean the stone-built altar, and 

the cleft-wood for its fire, 
That with sacrificial offering shall the 

soul to God aspire. 
Purged and pure from sin's defilement, 

lifting holy hands on high, 
" Raise the stone and thou shalt find Me, 

cleave the wood and there am I"? 

Does it mean that toil and action are the 

price that man shall pay, 
Striving the strait gait to enter, pressing 

on the narrow way. 
Clearing it from shade and hindrance, 

with strong arm and purpose high, 
" Raise the stone and thou shalt find Me, 

cleave the wood and there am I"? 

Does it mean that he who seeketh may 
Thy presence always see 

In the common things around him, in 
the stone and in the tree. 

Underlying, all-pervading. Soul of Na- 
ture, ever nigh, 

" Raise the stone and thou shalt find Me, 
cleave the wood and there am I"? 

Yea, in all our work and worship, in our 

quiet, in our strife. 
In the daily, busy handwork, in the 

soul's most ardent life. 
Each may read his own true meaning 

of the Saying deep and high, 
" Raise the stone and thou shalt find Me, 

cleave the wood and there am I." 
— Mrs. Henry B. Smith. 



He's true to God, who's true to man; 

wherever wrong is done, 
To the humblest and the weakest, 'neath 

the all-beholding sun. 
That wrong is also done to us; and they 

are slaves most base 
Whose love of right is for themselves, 

and not for all their race. 

■ — ^James Russell Lowell. 



SERVICE 



63 



HER CREED 

She stood before a chosen few, 
With modest air and eyes of blue; 
A gentle creature, in whose face 
Were mingled tenderness and grace. 

"You wish to join onr fold," they said; 
"Do you believe in all that's read 
From ritual and written creed. 
Essential to our htunan need?" 

A troubled look was in her eyes; 
She answered, as in vague surprise, 
As though the sense to her were dim. 
"I only strive to follow Him." 

They knew her life, how oft she stood, 
Pure in her guileless maidenhood, 
By dying bed, in hovel lone, 
Whose sorrow she had made her own. 

Oft had her voice in prayer been heard, 
Sweet as the note of any bird; 
Her hand been open in distress; 
Her joy to brighten and to bless. 

Yet still she answered, when they sought 
To know her inmost, earnest thought, 
With look as of the seraphim 
"I only strive to follow Him." 

— Sarah Knowles Bolton. 



WAKING THOUGHTS 

Another day God gives me, pure and 

white. 
How can I make it holy in his sight? 
Small means have I and but a narrow 

sphere, 
Yet work is round me, for he placed me 

here. 
How can I serve thee, Lord? Open 

mine eyes; 
Show me the duty that around me lies. 

"The house is small, but human hearts 

are there. 
And for this day at least beneath thy 

care. 
Someone is sad — ^then speak a word of 

cheer; 
Someone is lonely — make him welcome 

here ; 
Someone has failed — protect him from 

despair; 
Someone is poor — there's something you 

can spare! 



"Thine own heart's sorrow mention but 
in prayer, 

And carry sunshine with thee every- 
where. 

The little duties do with all thine heart 

And from things sordid keep a mind 
apart ; 

Then sleep, my child, and take a well- 
earned rest. 

In blessing others thou thyself art 
blest!" 



LONELY SERVICE 

Methought that in a solemn church I 

stood ; 
Its marble acres, worn with knees and 

feet. 
Lay spread from door to door, from 

street to street. 
Midway the form himg high upon the 

rood 
Of Him who gave his life to be otir good. 
Beyond, priests flitted, bowed, and mur- 
mured meet 
Among the candles, shining still and 

sweet. 
Men came and went, and worshipped as 

they could — 
And still their dust a woman with her 

broom, 
Bowed to her work, kept sweeping to 

the door. 
Then saw I, slow through all the pillared 

gloom, 
Across the church a silent figure come; 
"Daughter," it said, "thou sweepest 

well my floor." 
"It is the Lord!" I cried, and saw no 

more. — George Macdonald. 



SHARE YOUR BLESSINGS 

Dig channels for the streams of love. 

Where they may broadly rtm, 
And love has overflowing streams 

To fill them every one. 
But if at any time thou cease 

Such channels to provide, 
The very founts of love to thee 

Will soon be parched and dried. 
For thou must share if thou wouldst 
keep 

That good thing from above; 
Ceasing to share you cease to have; 

Such is the law of love. 



64 



SERVICE 



ONLY A LITTLE 

Only a seed — but it chanced to fall 
In a little cleft of a city wall, 
And taking root, grew bravely up 
Till a tiny blossom crowned its top. 

Only a thought — but the work it 

wrought 
Could never by tongue or pen be taught ; 
For it ran through a life like a thread of 

gold. 
And the life bore fruit — a hundred fold. 

Only a word — but 'twas spoken in love, 
With a whispered prayer to the Lord 

above ; 
And the angels in heaven rejoiced once 

more, 
For a new-bom soxd "entered in by the 

door." 



PAUL AT MELITA 

Secure in his prophetic strength. 

The water peril o'er, 
The many-gifted man at length 

Stepped on the promised shore. 

He trod the shore; but not to rest, 
Nor wait till angels came; 

Lo! humblest pains the saint attest, 
The firebrands and the flame. 

But when he felt the viper's smart, 
Then instant aid was given. 

Christian, hence learn to do thy part, 
Axid leave the rest to Heaven. 

— ^John Henry Newman. 



All service ranks the same with God; 
If now, as formerly He trod 
Paradise, His presence fills 
Our earth, each only as God wills 
Can work — God's puppets, best and 

worst. 
Are we ; there is no last nor first. 

Say not "a small event!" Why "small"? 
Costs it more pain that this, ye call 
A "great event," should come to pass 
Than that? Untwine me, from the mass 
Of deeds which make up life, one deed 
Power shall fall short in, or exceed. 
— Robert Browning. 



What will it matter in a little while 

That for a day 
We met and gave a word, a touch, a 
smile. 

Upon the way? 
These trifles! Can they make or mar 

Human life? 
Are souls as lightly swayed as rushes are 

By love or strife? 
Yea, yea, a look the fainting heart may 
break. 

Or make it whole, 
And just one word, if said for love's 
sweet sake. 

May save a soul. 



Get leave to work 
In this world — 'tis the best you get 

at all ; 
For God in cursing gives us better gifts 
Than men in benediction. God says, 

"Sweat 
For foreheads;" men say "crowns;" and 

so we are crowned — 
Ay, gashed by some tormenting circle 

of steel 
Which snaps with a secret spring. Get 

work; get work; 
Be sure 'tis better than what you work 

to get. 
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



Be useful where thou livest, that they 
may 
Both want and wish thy pleasing 
presence still; 
Kindness, good parts, great places, are 
the way 
To compass this. Find out men's 
wants and will. 
And meet them there. All worldly joys 

go less 
To the one joy of doing kindnesses. 
— George Herbert. 



When He who, sad and weary, longing 
sore 

For love's sweet service sought the sis- 
ters' door. 

One saw the heavenly, one the human 
guest ; 

But who shall say which loved the 
Master best? 

— ^John Greenleaf Whittier. 



SERVICE 



6S 



Oft, when the Word is on me to deliver, 
Opens the heaven, and the Lord is 
there. 



Then with a rush the intolerable crav- 
ing 
Shivers throughout me like a tnimpet 
call— 
Oh to save these! to perish for their 
saving. 
Die for their life, be offered for them 
all! 



No man is bom into the world whose 

work 
Is not bom with him; there is always 

work. 
And tools to work withal, for those who 

will ; 
And blessed are the homy hands of toil! 
— ^James Russell Lowell. 



The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, 
In whatso we share with another's need ; 
Not what we give, but what we share. 
For the gift without the giver is bare; 
Who gives himself with his alms feeds 

three : 
Himself, his hungering neighbor, and Me. 
— ^James Russell Lowell. 



Look not beyond the stars for heaven. 

Nor 'neath the sea for hell; 
Know thou, who leads a useful life 
In Paradise doth dwell. 

— Hafiz, tr. by Frederic Rowland 
Marvin. 



Small service is true service while it lasts : 
Of humblest friends, bright creature, 

scorn not one; 
The daisy, by the shadow that it casts. 
Protects the lingering dewdrop from the 

sun. — William Wordsworth. 



Mechanic soul, thou must not only do 

With Martha, but with Mary ponder too ; 

Happy's the home where these fair sis- 
ters vary ; 

But most, when Martha's reconciled to 
Mary. — Francis Quarles. 



If thou hast the gift of strength, then 
know 

Thy part is to uplift the trodden low; 

Else, in the giant's grasp, imtil the end 

A hopeless wrestler shall thy soul con- 
tend. — George Meredith. 



The best men doing their best 

Know, peradventure, least of what they 

do. 
Men usefuUest i' the world are simply 

used. 
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



New words to speak, new thoughts to 
hear. 

New love to give and take; 
Perchance new burdens I may bear 

To-day for love's sweet sake, 



He doth good work whose heart can find 
The spirit 'neath the letter; 

Who makes his kind of happier mind, 
Leaves wiser men and better. 



Work for some good, be it ever so slowly. 
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly, 
Labor — all labor is noble and holy. 
— Frances Sargent Osgood. 



In silence mend what ills deform the 

mind; 
But all thy good impart to all thy kind. 
— ^John Sterling. 



God gave me something very sweet to 

be mine own this day: 
A precious opportunity a word for Christ 

to say. 



That best portion of a good man's life — 
His little, nameless, unremembered acts 
Of kindness and of love. 

— William Wordsworth. 



Wouldst thou go forth to bless, be sure 

of thine own ground. 
Fix well thy center first, then draw thy 

circle round. 

— Richard Chenevix Trench. 



BROTHERHOOD 

CHARITY, SYMPATHY, EXAMPLE, INFLUENCE 



THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE 
ROAD 

There are hermit souls that live with- 
drawn 
In the peace of their self-content; 
There are souls, like stars, that dwell 
apart 
In a fellowless firmament; 
There are pioneer souls that blaze their 
paths 
Where highways never ran — 
But let me live by the side of the road 
And be a friend to man. 



Let me live in a house by the side of the 
road, 
Where the race of men go by — 
The men who are good and the men 
who are bad. 
As good and as bad as I. 
I would not sit in the scomer's seat, 

Or hurl the cynic's ban — 
Let me live in a house by the side of the 
road, 
And be a friend to man. 

I see from my house by the side of the 
road, 
By the side of the highway of life. 
The men who press with the ardor of 
hope 
The men who are faint with the 
strife. 
But I turn not away from their smiles 
nor their tears — 
Both parts of an infinite plan — 
Let me live in a house by the side of the 
road 
And be a friend to man. 

I know there are brook-gladdened 
meadows ahead 
And mountains of wearisome height; 
And the road passes on through the long 
afternoon 
And stretches away to the night. 



But still I rejoice when the travelers re- 
joice. 
And weep with the strangers that 
raoan, 
Nor live in my house by the side of the 
road 
Like a man who dwells alone. 

Let me live in my house by the side of 
the road 
Where the race of men go by — 
They are good, they are bad, they are 
weak, they are strong. 
Wise, foolish — so am I. 
Then why should I sit in the scomer's 
seat 
Or hurl the cynic's ban? 
Let me live in my house by the side of 
the road 
And be a friend to man. 

— Sam Walter Foss. 



IS YOUR LAMP BURNING? 

Say, is your lamp burning, my brother? 

I pray you look quickly and see; 
For if it were biuning, then surely 

Some beams would fall brightly on me. 

Straight, straight is the road, but I 
falter. 

And oft I fall out by the way; 
Then lift your lamp higher, my brother, 

Lest I should make fatal delay. 

There are many and many around you 

Who follow wherever you go; 
If you thought that they walked in the 
shadow 
Your lamp would bum brighter, I 
know. 

Upon the dark mountains they stumble. 
They are bruised on the rocks, and 
they lie 
With their white pleading faces turned 
upward 
To the clouds and the pitiful sky. 



66 



BROTHERHOOD. 



67 



There is many a lamp that is lighted, 
We behold them anear and afar, 

But not many among them, my brother, 
Shine steadily on, like a star. 

I think, were they trimmed night and 
morning, 
They would never bum down or go 
out. 
Though from the four quarters of heaven 
The winds were all blowing about. 

If once all the lamps that are lighted 
Should steadily blaze in a line. 

Wide over the land and the ocean, 
What a girdle of glory would shine! 

How all the dark places would brighten ! 
How the mists would roll up and 
away! 
How the earth would laugh out in her 
gladness 
To hail the millennial day! 

Say, is your lamp bviming, my brother? 

I pray you look quickly and see; 
For if it were burning, then surely 

Some beams would fall brightly on me. 



IP I SHOULD DIE TO-NIGHT 

If I should die to-night. 
My friends would look upon my quiet 

face 
Before they laid it in its resting-place, 
And deem that death had left it almost 

fair. 
And laying snow-white flowers upon my 

hair. 
Would smooth it down with tearful 

tenderness. 
And fold my hands with lingering 
caress — 
Poor hands, so empty and so cold to- 
night! 

If I should die to-night. 
My friends would call to mind, with lov- 
ing thought. 
Some kindly deed the icy hand had 

wrought. 
Some gentle word the frozen lips had 

said — 
Errands on which the willing feet had 

sped; 
The memory of my selfishness and pride. 
My hasty words, would all be put aside. 
And so I should be loved and mourned 
to-night. 



If I should die to-night, 

Even hearts estranged would turn once 
more to me, 

Recalling other days remorsefxilly. 

The eyes that chill me with averted 
glance 

Would look upon me as of yore, per- 
chance, 

And soften in the old familiar way; 

For who would war with dumb, un- 
conscious clay? 
So I might rest, forgiven of all to- 
night. 

O friends, I pray to-night, 
Keep not your kisses for my dead cold 

brow. 
The way is lonely ; let me feel them now. 
Think gently of me; I am travel- worn, 
My faltering feet are pierced with many 

a thorn. 
Forgive! O hearts estranged, forgive, I 

plead ! 
When ceaseless bliss is mine I shall not 
need 
The tenderness for which I long to- 
night. — Belle Eugenia Smith. 



FRUITION 



We scatter seeds with careless hand 
And dream we ne'er shall see them 
more. 
But for a thousand years 
Their fruit appears 
In weeds that mar the land 
Or helpful store. 

The deeds we do, the words we say — 
Into still air they seem to fleet; 
We count them ever past; 
But they shall last — 
In the dread judgment they 
And we shall meet. 

I charge thee by the years gone by. 
For the love's sake of brethren dear. 
Keep thou the one true way, 
In work and play. 
Lest in that world their cry 

Of woe thou hear. — John Keble. 



Still shines the light of holy lives 
Like star beams over doubt; 

Each sainted memory. Christlike, drives 
Some dark possession out. 

— ^John Greenleaf Whittier. 



68 



BROTHERHOOD 



HAVE CHARITY 

Then gently scan your brother man, 

Still gentler sister woman; 
Though they may gang a kennin' wrang 

To step aside is human: 
One point must still be greatly dark, 

The moving why they do it: 
And just as lamely can ye mark 

How far, perhaps, they rue it. 

Who made the heart, 'tis He alone 

Decidedly can try us; 
He knows each chord — its various tone. 

Each spring — its various bias; 
Then at the balance let's be mute, 

We never can adjust it; 
What's done we partly may compute. 

But know not what's resisted. 

— Robert Burns. 



THE VOICE OP PITY 

Couldst thou boast, O child of weakness, 
O'er the sons of wrong and strife. 

Were their strong temptations planted 
In thy path of life? 

He alone whose hand is bounding 
Human power and human will. 

Looking through each soul's surround- 
ing. 
Knows its good or ill. 

Earnest words must needs be spoken 
When the warm heart bleeds or bums 

With its scorn of wrong, or pity 
For the wronged, by turns. 

But, by all thy nature's weakness. 
Hidden faults and follies known. 

Be thou, in rebuking evil. 
Conscious of thine own. 

Not the less shall stem-eyed Duty 
To thy lips her trumpet set, 

But with harsher blasts shall mingle 
Wailings of regret. 

So when thoughts of evil-doers 
Waken scorn or hatred move. 

Shall a mournful fellow-feeling 
Temper all with love. 

— John Greenleaf Whittier. 



'Tis the Almighty's gracious plan, 
That man shall be the joy of man. 
— From the Scandinavian, tr. by Fred- 
eric Rowland Marvin. 



JUDGE NOT 

Judge not; the workings of his brain 
And of his heart thou canst not see; 

What looks to thy dim eyes a stain 
In God's pure light may only be 

A scar — brought from some well-won 
field 

Where thou wouldst only faint and yield. 

The look, the air, that frets thy sight 

May be a token that, below. 

The soul has closed in deadly fight 

With some infernal fiery foe — 
Whose glance would scorch thy smiling 

grace 
And cast thee shuddering on thy face! 

The fall thou darest to despise — 
May be the angel's slackened hand 

Has suffered it, that he may rise 
And take a firmer, surer stand; 

Or, trusting less to earthly things, 

May henceforth learn to use his wings. 

And judge none lost; but wait and see. 
With hopeful pity, not disdain. 

The depth of the abyss may be 
The measure of the height of pain, 

And love and glory that may raise 

This soul to God in after days. 

— Adelaide Anne Procter, 



THINK GENTLY OF THE ERRING 

Think gently of the erring; 

Ye know not of the power 
With which the dark temptation came, 

In some tmguarded hour; 
Ye may not know how earnestly 

They struggled, or how well. 
Until the hour of weakness came 

And sadly thus they fell. 

Think gently of the erring; 
Oh, do not thou forget, 
However darkly stained by sin, 

He is thy brother yet; 
Heir of the self-same heritage, 

Child of the self-same God, 
He has but stumbled in the path 

Thou hast in weakness trod. 

Speak gently to the erring; 

For is it not enough 
That innocence and peace have gone, 

Without thy censure rough? 



BROTHERHOOD 



69 



It stire must be a weary lot, 
That sin-stained heart to bear, 

And those who share a happier fate 
Their chidings well may spare. 

Speak gently to the erring; 

Thou yet mayst lead them back, 
With holy words and tones of love, 

From misery's thorny track; 
Forget not thou hast often sinned, 

And sinful yet must be; 
Deal gently with the erring, then. 

As God has dealt with thee. 

— ^Julia A. Fletcher. 



HARSH JUDGMENTS 

God! whose thoughts are brightest 

light, 
Whose love runs always clear. 
To whose kind wisdom sinning sotds 
Amidst their sins are dear, 

Sweeten my bitter-thoughted heart 

With charity like thine. 
Till self shall be the only spot 

On earth which does not shine. 

1 often see in my own thoughts, 
When they lie nearest Thee, 

That the worst men I ever knew 
Were better men than me. 

He whom no praise can reach is aye 
Men's least attempts approving; 

Whom justice makes all-merciful 
Omniscience makes all-loving. 

How thou canst think so well of us 

Yet be the God thou art, 
Is darkness to my intellect. 

But sunshine to my heart. 

Yet habits linger in the soul; 

More grace, O Lord! more grace! 
More sweetness from thy loving heart! 

More sunshine from thy face! 

The discord is within, which jars 

So sadly in life's song; 
'Tis we, not they, who are in fault, 

When others seem so wrong. 

'Tis we who weigh upon ourselves; 

Self is the irksome weight; 
To those who can see straight them- 
selves, 

All things look always straight. 



My God, with what surpassing love 
Thou lovest all on earth; 

How good the least good is to thee. 
How much each soul is worth! 

All bitterness is from ourselves; 

All sweetness is from thee; 
Sweet God! for evermore be thou 

Fountain and fire in me! 

— Frederick William Faber. 



HOW TO JUDGE 

"Judge the people by their actions" — 

'tis a rule you often get — 
"Judge the actions by their people" is 

a wiser maxim yet. 
Have I known you, brother, sister? 

Have I looked into your heart? 
Mingled with yoixr thoughts my feelings, 

taken of yotir life my part? 
Through the warp of yoiir convictions 

sent the shuttle of my thought 
Till the web became the Credo, for us 

both, of Should and Ought? 
Seen in thousand ways your nature, in 

all act and look and speech? 
By that large induction only I your law 

of being reach. 
Now I hear of this wrong action — what 

is that to you and me? 
Sin within you may have done it — fruit 

not nature to the tree. 
Foreign graft has come to bearing — 

mistletoe grown on your bough — 
If I ever realty knew you, then, my 

friend, I know you now. 
So I say, "He never did it," or, " He did 

not so intend"; 
Or, "Some foreign power o'ercame him" 

— so I judge the action, friend. 
Let the mere outside observer note ap- 
pearance as he, can; 
We, more righteous judgment passing, 

test each action by its man. 

— ^James Freeman Clarke. 



"TO KNOW ALL IS TO FORGIVE 
ALL" 

If I knew you and you knew me. 
If both of us could clearly see. 
And with an inner sight divine 
The meaning of your heart and mine, 
I'm sure that we would differ less, 
And clasp our hands in friendliness ; 
Our thoughts would pleasantly agree 
If I knew you and you knew me. 

— Nixon Waterman. 



70 



BROTHERHOOD 



KINDNESS 

A little word in kindness spoken, 

A motion, or a tear. 
Has often healed the heart that's 
broken 

And made a friend sincere. 

A word, a look, has crushed to earth 
Full many a budding flower, 

Which, had a smile but owned its birth, 
Wovdd bless life's darkest hour. 

Then deem it not an idle thing 

A pleasant word to speak; 
The face you wear, the thought you 
bring, 
A heart may heal or break. 

— John Greenleaf Whittier. 



' IF WE KNEW 

If we knew the cares and sorrows 

Crowded round our neighbor's way. 
If we knew the little losses, 

Sorely grievous, day by day. 
Would we then so often chide him 

For the lack of thrift and gain, 
Leaving on his heart a shadow 

Leaving on our hearts a stain? 

If we knew the clouds above us. 

Held by gentle blessings there, 
Wotid we tvim away, all trembling, 

In our blind and weak despair? 
Would we shrink from little shadows 

Lying on the dewy grass 
While 'tis only birds of Eden 

Just in mercy flying past? 
^Let us reach within our bosoms 
J For the key to other lives, 
And with love to erring natures 

Cherish good that still survives; 
So that when our disrobed spirits 

Soar to realms of light again. 
We may say, "Dear Father, judge vis 

As we judged our fellow men." 



Time to me this truth hath taught, 

'Tis a truth that's worth revealing: 
More offend from want of thought 

Than from want of feeling. 
If advice we would convey, 

There's a time we should convey it; 
If we've but a word to say. 

There's a time in which to say it. 



HONOR ALL MEN 

Great Master! teach us how to hope in 
man: 
We lift our eyes upon his works and 

ways. 
And disappointment chills us as we 
gaze. 
Our dream of him so far the truth out- 
ran. 
So far his deeds are ever falling short. 
And then we fold our graceful hands 

and say, 
"The world is vulgar." Didst thou 
turn away, 
O Sacred Spirit, delicately wrought. 
Because the humble souls of Galilee 
Were timed not to the music of thine 

own 
And chimed not to the pulsing under- 
tone 
Which swelled Thy loving bosom like 

the sea? 
Shame thou our coldness, most be- 
nignant Friend, 
When we so daintily do condescend. 
— Martha Perry Howe. 



BROTHERHOOD 

That plenty but reproaches me 
Which leaves my neighbor bare. 

Not wholly glad my heart can be 
While his is bowed with care. 

If I go free, and sound, and stout, 
While his poor fetters clank, 

Unsated still, I'll still cry out, 
And plead with Whom I thank. 

Almighty, thou who Father be 

Of him, of me, of all. 
Draw us together, him and me. 

That, whichsoever fall. 

The other's hand may fail him not — 
The other's strength decline 

No task of succor that his lot 
May claim from son of thine. 

I would be fed. I would be clad. 

I would be housed and dry. 
But if so be my heart is sad — 

What benefit have I? 

Best he whose shoulders best endure 
The load that brings relief; 

And best shall be his joy secure 
Who shares that joy with grief. 
— Edward Sandford Martin. 



BROTHERHOOD 



71 



THE LIFE I SEEK 

Not in some cloistered cell 
Dost thou, Lord, bid me dwell 

My love to show. 
But 'mid the busy marts. 
Where men with burdened hearts 

Do come and go. 

Some tempted soul to cheer 
When breath of ill is near 

And foes annoy; 
The sinning to restrain. 
To ease the throb of pain — 

Be such my joy. 

Lord, make me quick to see 
Each task awaiting me. 

And quick to do; 
Oh, grant me strength, I pray, 
With lowly love each day. 

And ptupose true, 

To go as Jesus went, 
Spending and being spent. 

Myself forgot ; 
Supplying human needs 
By loving words and deeds — 

Oh, happy lot! 

—Robert M. Offord. 



THY BROTHER 

When thy heart with joy o'erfiowing 

Sings a thankful prayer. 
In thy joy, O let thy brother 

With thee share. 

When the harvest sheaves ingathered 

Fill thy bams with store. 
To thy God and to thy brother 

Give the more. 

If thy soul with power uplifted 

Yearns for glorious deed. 
Give thy strength to serve thy brother 

In his need. 

Hast thou borne a secret sorrow 

In thy lonely breast? 
Take to thee thy sorrowing brother 

For a guest. 

Share with him thy bread of blessing. 

Sorrow's burden share; 
When thy heart enfolds a brother, 

God is there. 
— Theodore Chickering Williams. 



ALL'S WELL 

Sweet- voiced Hope, thy fine discourse 

Foretold not half life's good to me: 
Thy painter. Fancy, hath not force 
To show how sweet it is to be! 

Thy witching dream 
And pictured scheme 
To match the fact still want the power: 
Thy promise brave — 
From birth to grave — 
Life's boon may beggar in an hour. 

"Ask and receive," 'tis sweetly said; 
Yet what to plead for know I not; 
For wish is wasted, hope o'ersped. 
And aye to thanks returns my 
thought. 
If I would pray, 
I've naught to say 
But this, that God may be God still; 
For him to live 
Is still to give, 
And sweeter than my wish, his will. 

wealth of life beyond all bound! 
Eternity each moment given! 

What plummet may the Present sound 
Who promises a future heaven? 

Or glad or grieved. 

Oppressed, relieved. 
In blackest night or brightest day. 

Still pours the flood 

Of golden good. 
And more than heartful fills me aye. 

My wealth is common; I possess 

No petty province, but the whole. 
What's mine alone is mine far less 
Than treasure shared by every soul. 

Talk not of store. 

Millions or more — 
Of values which the purse may hold — 

But this divine! 

I own the mine 
Whose grains outweigh a planet's gold. 

1 have a stake in every star, 

In every beam that fills the day; 
All hearts of men my coffers are. 
My ores arterial tides convey; 
The fields and skies 
And sweet replies 
Of thought to thought are my gold-dust. 
The oaks and brooks 
And speaking looks 
Of lovers' faith and friendship's trust. 



72 



BROTHERHOOD 



Life's youngest tides joy-brimming flow 

For him who Hves above all years; 
Who all-immortal makes the Now, 
And is not ta'en in Time's arrears; 

His life's a hymn 

The seraphim 
Might stop to hear or help to sing, 

And to his soul 

The boundless whole 
Its bounty all doth daily bring. 

"All mine is thine," the sky-sotil saith; 
"The wealth I am must then become 
Richer and richer, breath by breath — 
Immortal gain, immortal room!" 
And since all his 
Mine also is, 
Life's gift outruns my fancies far, 
And drowns the dream 
In larger stream, 
As morning drinks the morning star. 
— David Atwood Wasson. 



HOW DOTH DEATH SPEAK OF 
OUR BELOVED? 

How doth death speak of our beloved 
When it has laid them low. 

When it has set its hallowing touch 
On speechless lip and brow? 

It clothes their every gift and grace 
With radiance from the holiest place. 
With light as from an angel's face, 

Recalling with resistless force 

And tracing to their hidden source 

Deeds scarcely noticed in their course — 

This little loving fond device, 

That daily act of sacrifice. 

Of which too late we learned the price. 

Opening our weeping eyes to trace 
Simple unnoticed kindnesses, 
Forgotten tones of tenderness, 

Which evermore to us must be 
Sacred as hymns in infancy 
Learnt listening at a mother's knee. 

Thus doth death speak of our beloved 
When it has laid them low. 

Then let love antedate the work of 
death, 
And speak thus now. 



How does death speak of our beloved 
When it has laid them low, 

When it has set its hallowing touch 
On speechless lip and brow? 

It sweeps their faults with heavy hand 
As sweeps the sea the trampled sand, 
Till scarce the faintest print is scanned. 

It shows how much the vexing deed 
Was but a generous nature's weed 
Or some choice virtue run to seed; 

How that small fretting fretfulness 
Was but love's overanxiousness. 
Which had not been had love been less ; 

This failing at which we repined 
But the dim shade of day declined 
Which should have made us doubly 
kind. 

It takes each failing on our part 
And brands it in upon the heart 
With caustic power and cruel art. 

The small neglect that may have pained 
A giant stature will have gained 
When it can never be explained; 

The little service which had proved 
How tenderly we watched and loved. 
And those mute lips to smiles had 
moved ; 

The little gift from out our store 
Which might have cheered some cheer- 
less hour 
When they with earth's poor needs were 
poor. 

It shows our faults like fires at night; 
It sweeps their failings out of sight; 
It clothes their good in heavenly light. 

O Christ, our life, foredate the work of 
death 
And do this now; 
Thovi, who art love, thus hallow our be- 
loved ; 
Not death, but Thou I 

— Elizabeth Rundle Charles. 



God gives each man one life, like a lamp, 

then gives 
That lamp due measure of oil: Lamp 

lighted — hold high, wave wide. 
Its comfort for others to share! 

— Muleykeh. 



BROTHERHOOD 



73 



THE NEW ERA 

It is coming! it is coming I The day is 
just a-dawning 
When man shall be to fellow-man a 
helper and a brother; 
When the mansion, with its gilded hall, 
its tower and arch and awning, 
Shall be to hovel desolate a kind and 
foster-mother. 

When the men who work for wages shall 
not toil from mom till even, 
With no vision of the sunlight, nor 
flowers, nor birds a-singing; 
When the men who hire the workers, 
blest with all the gifts of heaven, 
Shall the golden rule remember, its 
glad millennium bringing. 

The time is coming when the man who 
cares not for another 
Shall be accounted as a stain upon a 
fair creation; 
Who lives to fill his coffers full, his better 
self to smother, 
As blight and mildew on the fame and 
glory of a nation. 

Tho hours are growing shorter for the 
millions who are toiling. 
And the homes are growing better for 
the millions yet to be; 
And the poor shall learn the lesson, how 
that waste and sin are spoiling 
The fairest and the finest of a grand 
humanity. 

It is coming! it is coming! and men's 
thoughts are growing deeper; 
They are giving of their millions as 
they never gave before; 
They are learning the new gospel, man 
must be his brother's keeper. 
And right, not might, shall triumph, 
and the selfish rule no more. 

— Sarah Knowles Bolton. 



To a darning-needle once exclaimed the 

kitchen sieve, 
"You've a hole right through your body, 

and I wonder how you live." 
But the needle (who was sharp) replied, 

"I too have wondered 
That you notice my one hole, when in 

you there are a hundred!" 
— Saadi, tr. by James Freeman Clarke. 



LOOKING FOR PEARLS 

The Master came one evening to the gate 
Of a fair city; it was growing late, 
And sending his disciples to buy food. 
He wandered forth intent on doing good, 
As was his wont. And in the market-place 
He saw a crowd, close gathered in one 

space. 
Gazing with eager eyes upon the ground, 
Jesus drew nearer, and thereon he found 
A noisome creature, a bedraggled wreck — 
A dead dog with a halter round his neck. 
And those who stood by mocked the 

object there, 
And one said, scoffing, "It pollutes the 

air!" 
Another, jeering, asked, "How long to- 
night 
Shall such a miscreant cur offend our 

sight?" 
"Look at his torn hide," sneered a Jew- 
ish wit, 
" You could not cut even a shoe from it," 
And turned away. "Behold his ears 

that bleed," 
A fourth chimed in, "an unclean wretch 

indeed!" 
"He hath been hanged for thieving," 

they all cried. 
And spumed the loathsome beast from 

side to side. 
Then Jesus, standing by them in the 

street. 
Looked on the poor, spent creature at 

his feet. 
And, bending o'er him, spake unto the 

men, 
"Pearls are not whiter than his teeth." 

And then 
The people at each other gazed, asking, 
"Who is this stranger pitying this vile 

thing?" 
Then one exclaimed, with awe-abated 

breath, 
"This surely is the Man of Nazareth; 
This must be Jesus, for none else but he 
Something to praise in a dead dog could 

see!" 
And, being ashamed, each scoffer bowed 

his head, 
And from the sight of Jesus turned and 

fled. 



Vice is a monster of so frightful mien 
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen; 
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, 
We first endure, then pity, then em- 
brace. — Alexander Pope. 



74 



BROTHERHOOD 



WHAT MIGHT BE DONE 

What might be done if men were wise — 
What glorious deeds, my suffering 
brother, 

Would they luiitc 
In love and right. 
And cease their scorn of one another! 

Oppression's heart might be imbued 
With kindling drops of loving-kind- 
ness, 

And ktiowledge pour 
From shore to snore 
Light on the eyes of mental blindness. 

All slavery, warfare, lies, and wrongs. 
All vice and crime, might die together; 

And wine and corn 

To each man born 
Be free as wannth in summer weather. 

The meanest wretch that ever trod, 
The deepest sunk in guilt and sorrow, 
Might stand erect 
In self-respect. 
And share the teeming world to- 
morrow. 

What might be done? This might be 
done. 
And more than this, my suffering 
brother; 

More than the tongxie 
E'er said or sung 
If men were wise and loved each other. 
— Charles Mackay. 



If I could see 
A brother languishing in sore distress. 
And I should turn and leave him com- 
fortless. 

When I might W 
A messenger of hope and happiness — 
How could I ask to have that I denied 
In my own hour of bitterness supplied? 

If I might share 
A brother's load aU>ng the dusty way. 
And I should tvmi and walk alone that 
day. 

How could I dare — 
When in the evening watch I kneel to 

pr-iy— , 

To ask for help to bear my pain and loss. 
If I had heeded not my brother's cross? 



SHARED 

I said it in the meadow path, 
I say it on the mountain-stairs: 

The best things any mortal hath 
Are those which every mortal shares. 

The air we breathe — the sky — the 
breeze — 

The light without tis and within — 
Life with its unlocked trcasiu-ies — 

God's riches, are for all to win. 

The grass is softer to my tread 

I'^or rest it yields luinumbered feet; 

Sweeter to me the wikl-rose red 

Because she makes the whole world 
sweet. 

Into yom- heavenly loneliness 

Ye welcomed me, O solemn peaks I 

And me in every gi^test you bless 

Who reverently your mystery seeks. 

And up the radiant peojilcd way 
That opens into worlds unknown 

It will be life's delight to say, 

" Heaven is not heaven for me alone." 

Rich through my brethren's poverty! 

Such wealth were hideous! I am blest 
Only in what thoy share with me. 

In what I share with all the rest. 
— Lucy Larcom. 



UNCHARITABLENESS NOT 
CHRISTIAN 

I know not if 'twas wise or well 
To give all heathens up to hell — ■ 
Hadrian — Aurclius — Socrates — 
And others wise atid good as these; 
I know not if it is forbid. 
But this I know — Christ never did. 



May every soul that touches mine — 
Be it the slightest contact — get there- 
from some good, 
Some little grace, one kindly thought. 
One inspiration yet unfelt, one bit of 

courage 
For the darkening sky, one gleam of faith 
To brave the thickening ills of life. 
One glimpse of brighter skies beyond 

the gathering mists, 
To make this life worth while, 
And heaven a surer heritage. 



BROTHERHOOD 



75 



SOCIAL CHRISTIANITY 

O for a closer walk with man I 

Sweet fellowship of soul, 
Where each is to the other bound, 

Parts of one living whole. 

Our Father, God, help us to see 

That all in thee are one; 
O warm our hearts with thy pure love. 

Strong as your glorious sun. 

Pride, envy, selfishness will melt 

Beneath that kindling fire; 
Our brother's faults we scarce shall see. 

But good in all admire. 

No bitter cry of misery 

Shall ever pass unheard; 
But gentle sympathy spring forth 

In smile and strengthening word. 

And when our brother's voice shall call 
From lands beyond the sea, 

Our hearts in glad response will say, 
"Here, Lord, am I, send me." 

O Jesus Christ, thou who wast man. 

Grant us thy face to see; 
In thy light shall we understand 

What human life may be. 

Then daily with thy Spirit filled. 

According to thy word, 
New power shall flow through us to all, 

And draw men near our Lord. 

Thus will the deep desire be met 
With which our jirayor began; 

A closer walk with Thee will mean 
A closer walk with man. 



If any little word of mine may make a 

life the brighter. 
If any little song of mine may make a 

heart the lighter, 
God help me speak the little word, and 

take my bit of singing. 
And drop it in some lonely vale to set 

the echoes ringing. 
If any little love of mine may make a 

life the sweeter. 
If any little care of mine make other life 

completer, 
If any lift of mine may ease the burden 

of another, 
God give me love and care and strength 

to help my toiling brother. 



CHARITY NOT JUSTICE 

Outwearied with the littleness and spite, 
The falsehood and the treachery of 

men, 
I cried, "Give me but justice! " think- 
ing then 
I meekly craved a common boon which 

might 
Most easily be granted; soon the light 
Of deeper truth grew on my wonder- 
ing ken, 
(Escaping baneful damps of stagnant 
fen). 
And then I saw that in my pride bcdight 
I claimed from erring man the gift of 
Heaven — 
God's own great vested right; and I 
grew calm, 
With folded hands, like stone, to 
patience given. 
And pitying, of pure love distilling 
balm ; 
And now I wait in quiet trust to be 
All known to God — and ask of men 
sweet charity. 

— Elizabeth Oakes Smith. 



GOD SAVE THE PEOPLE 

When wilt thou save the people, 

O God of mercy, when? 
Not kings alone, but nations? 

Not tnrones and crowns, but men? 
Flowers of thy heart, O God, are they: 
Let them not pass, like weeds, away — 
Their heritage a sunless day. 
God save the people! 

Shall crime bring crime forever, 

Strength aidiiig still the strong? 
Is it thy will, O Father, 

That man shall toil for wrong? 
"No," say thy inountains, "No," 

thy skies; 
Man's clouded sun shall brightly rise, 
And songs ascend instead of sighs. 
God save the people! 

When wilt thou save the people? 

O God of mercy, when? 
The people. Lord, the people. 

Not thrones and crowns, but men? 
God save the people; thine they are, 
Thy children, as thine angels fair; 
From vice, oppression, and despair, 
God save the people! 

— Ebcnezer Elliott. 



76 



BROTHERHOOD 



HYMN OF THE CITY 

Not in the solitude 
Alone may man commxme with Heaven, 
or see 
Only in savage wood 
And sunny vale the present Deity; 

Or only hear his voice 
Where the winds whisper and the waves 
rejoice. 

Even here do I behold 
Thy steps, Almighty! — here, amidst the 
crowd 
Through the great city rolled 
With everlasting murmxirs deep and 
loud — 
Choking the ways that wind 
'Mongst the proud piles, the work of 
human kind. 

The golden sunshine comes 
From the round heaven, and on their 
dwellings lies 
And lights their inner homes; 
For them thou fiU'st with air the un- 
bounded skies 
And givest them the stores 
Of ocean, and the harvest of its shores. 

Thy spirit is around, 
Qviickening the restless mass that sweeps 
along; 
And this eternal sound — 
Voices and footfalls of the numberless 
throng — 
Like the resounding sea. 
Or like the rainy tempest, speaks of Thee. 

And when the hour of rest 
Comes like a calm upon the mid-sea 
brine. 
Hushing its billowy breast — 
The quiet of that moment too is Thine 
It breathes of Him who keeps 
The vast and helpless city while it sleeps. 
— William Cullen Bryant. 



No one is so accursed by fate, 
No one so utterly desolate, 

But some heart, though tmknown. 

Responds unto his own. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 

Believe not each accusing tongue, 
As most weak people do; 

But still believe that story wrong 
Which ought not to be true. 

— Richard Brinsley Sheridan. 



CHRIST IN THE CITY 

Where cross the crowded ways of life. 
Where sound the cries of race and 
clan. 

Above the noise of selfish strife. 
We hear thy voice, O Son of man. 

In haunts of wretchedness and need. 
On shadowed thresholds dark with 
fears. 

From paths where hide the lures of greed 
We catch the vision of thy tears. 

From tender childhood's helplessness, 
From woman's grief, man's burdened 
toil, 
From famished souls, from sorrow's 
stress, 
Thy heart has never known recoil. 

The cup of water given for Thee 

Still holds the freshness of thy grace; 

Yet long these multitudes to see 
The sweet compassion of thy face. 

O Master, from the moxintain side 
Make haste to heal these hearts of 
pain, 

Among these restless throngs abide, 
O tread the city's streets again. 

Till sons of men shall learn thy love 
And follow where thy feet have trod ; 

Till glorious from thy heaven above 
Shall come the city of our God. 

— Frank Mason North. 



Who seeks for heaven alone to save his 

soul 
May keep the path, but will not reach 

the goal; 
While he who walks in love may wander 

far. 
But God will bring him where the 

blessed are. — Henry van Dyke. 



Persuasion, friend, comes not by toil or 
art. 
Hard study never made the matter 
clearer ; 
'Tis the live fountain in the preacher's 
heart 
Sends forth the streams that melt 
the ravished hearer. 
— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. 



BROTHERHOOD 



77 



SPEAK OUT 

If you have a friend worth loving, 
Love him. Yes, and let him know 

That you love him, ere life's evening 
Tinge his brow with sunset glow. 

Why should good words ne'er be said 

Of a friend — till he is dead? 

If you hear a song that thrills you, 
Stuig by any child of song, 

Praise it. Do not let the singer 
Wait deserved praises long. 

Why should one who thrills your heart 

Lack the joy you may impart? 

If you hear a prayer that moves you 
By its humble, pleading tone. 

Join it. Do not let the seeker 
Bow before his God alone. 

Why should not thy brother share 

The strength of "two or three" in 
prayer? 

If your work is made more easy 
By a friendly, helping hand. 

Say so. Speak out brave and truly, 
Ere the darkness veil the land. 

Should a brother workman dear 

Falter for a word of cheer? 

Scatter thus your seeds of kindness 

All enriching as you go — 
Leave them. Trust the Harvest-Giver; 

He will make each seed to grow. 
So, until the happy end, 
Your life shall never lack a friend. 



INFLUENCE 

The smallest bark on life's tumultuous 

ocean 

Will leave a track behind forevermore ; 

The lightest wave of influence, once in 

motion. 

Extends and widens to the eternal 

shore. 
We shovdd be wary, then, who go 
before 
A myriad yet to be, and we should take 
Otir bearings carefully where breakers 
roar 
And fearful tempests gather: one mis- 
take 
May wreck unnumbered barks that 
follow in our wake. 

— Sarah Knowles Bolton. 



TELL HIM SO 

If you have a word of cheer 

That may light the pathway drear, 

Of a brother pilgrim here, 

Let him know. 
Show him you appreciate 
What he does, and do not wait 
Till the heavy hand of fate 

Lays him low. 
If your heart contains a thought 
That will brighter make his lot, 
Then, in mercy, hide it not; 

Tell him so. 

Bide not till the end of all 
Carries him beyond recall 
When beside his sable pall. 

To avow 
Your affection and acclaim 
To do honor to his name 
And to place the wreath of fame 

On his brow. 
Rather speak to him to-day; 
For the things you have to say 
May assist him on his way: 

Tell him now. 

Life is hard enough, at best: 
But the love that is expressed 
Makes it seem a pathway blest 

To our feet; 
And the troubles that we share 
Seem the easier to bear. 
Smile upon your neighbor's care, 

As you greet. 
Rough and stony are our ways. 
Dark and dreary are our days; 
But another's love and praise 

Make them sweet. 

Wait not till your friend is dead 
Ere your compliments are said; 
For the spirit that has fled, 

If it know. 
Does not need to speed it on 
Our poor praise; where it has gone 
Love's eternal, golden dawn 

Is aglow. 
But unto our brother here 
That poor praise is very dear; 
If you've any word of cheer 
Tell him so. — ^J. A. Egerton. 



So when a great man dies, 
For years beyond our ken 

The light he leaves behind him lies 
Upon the paths of men. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



78 



BROTHERHOOD 



THE MAN WITH A GRUDGE 

There once was a man who bore a 
grudge. 
Stoutly he bore it many a year. 
"Beware I" said the parson. He 
answered, "Fudge! 
Well it becomes me, never fear. 

"Men for this world, and saints for 
heaven ; 

Too much of meekness shows a--fool ; 
My loaf shall rise with a livelier leaven ; 

'Give as you get,' is a good old rule." 

The longer he bore it, the more it grew, 
Grew his grvidge, as he trudged along; 

Till in sight of a pearly gate he drew. 
And he heard within it a wondrous 
song. 

The shining porter said, "Walk in." 
He sought to do so ; the gate was strait : 

Hard he struggled his way to win. 
The way was narrow, the grudge was 
great. 

He turned in haste to lay it down; 

He strove to tear it away — to cut — 
But it had fast to his heart strings 
grown, 
"O wait," he cried; but the door was 
shut. 

Through windows bright and clear he 
saw 
The blessed going with their Lord to 
sup. 
But Satan clapped on his grvidge a claw; 
Hell opened ncr mouth and swallowed 
him up. 

— Sara Hammond Palfrey. 



Man judges from a partial view. 
None ever yet his brother knew ; 

The Eternal Eye that sees the whole 
May better read the darkened soul. 

And find, to outward sense denied, 
The flower upon its inward side. 

— ^John Greenleaf Whittier. 



O brothers! are ye asking how 
The hills of happiness to find? 

Then know they lie beyond the vow- 
"God helping me, I will be kind." 
— Nixon Waterman. 



A BLESSING 

Not to the man of dollars, 

Not to the man of deeds, 
Not unto craft and cunning, 

Not unto human creeds; 
Not to the one whose passion 

Is for the world's renown, 
Not in the form of fashion 

Cometh a blessing down. 

But to the one whose spirit 

Yearns for the great and good; 
Unto the one whose storehouse 

Yieldeth the hungry food; 
Unto the one who labors 

Fearless of foe or frown; 
Unto the kindly-hearted, 

Cometh a blessing down. 

— Mary Frances Tucker. 



WEAPONS 



Both swords and guns arc strong, no 
doubt. 

And so are tongue and pen. 
And so are sheaves of good bank notes, 

To sway the souls of men. 
But gxins and swords and piles of gold, 

Though mighty in their sphere, 
Are sometimes feebler than a smile, 

And poorer than a tear. 

— Charles Mackay. 



Enough to know that, through the 

winter's frost 
And summer's heat, no seed of truth is 

lost, 
And every duty pays at last its cost. 
— ^John Greenleaf Whittier. 



A kindly act is a kernel sown 
That will grow to a goodly tree. 

Shedding its fruit when time is flown 
Down the gulf of Eternity. 

—John Boyle O'Reilly. 



The kindly word unspoken is a sin — 

A sin that wraps itself in purest guise. 
And tells the heart that, doubting, looks 
within, 
That, not in speech, but thought, the 
virtue lies. 

—John Boyle O Reilly. 



CONSECRATION 

SUBMISSION, DEVOTION, PURITY 



THE CHARIOTEER 

O God, take the reins of my life! 
I have driven it blindly, to left and to 

right. 
In mock of the rock, in the chasm's 
despite, 
Where the brambles were rife, 
In the blaze of the sun and the deadliest 
black of the night. 

God, take the reins of my life! 

For I am so weary and weak. 
My hands are a-quiver and so is my 

heart, 
And my eyes are too tired for the tear- 
drops to start. 
And the worn horses reek 
With the anguishing pull and the hot, 
heavy harness's smart. 
While I am all weary and weak. 

But Thou wilt be peace, wilt be power. 
Thy hand on the reins and thine eye 

on the way 
Shall be wisdom to giiide and controlling 
to stay, 
And my life in that hour 
Shall be led into leading, and rest when 
it comes to obey; 
For thou wilt be peace and all power. 

Now, Lord, without tarrying, now! 
While eyes can look up and while reason 

remains. 
And my hand yet has strength to sur- 
render the reins. 
Ere death stamp my brow 
And pour coldness and stillness through 
all the mad course of my veins — 
Come, Lord, without tarrying, now! 

1 yield Thee my place, which is thine. 
Appoint me to lie on the chariot floor; 
Yea, appoint me to lie at thy feet, and 

no more, 
While the glad axles shine. 
And the happy wheels run on their 

course to the heavenly door, — 
Now thou hast my place, which is 

thine. — Amos R. Wells. 



WHOLLY THE LORD'S 

My whole though broken heart, O Lord. 

From henceforth shall be thine; 
And here I do my vow record — 

This hand, these words are mine: 
All that I have, without reserve, 

I offer here to thee: 
Thy will and honor all shall serve 

That thou bestow 'st on me. 



All that exceptions save I lose; 

All that I lose I save; 
The treasures of thy love I choose, 

And Thou art all I crave. 
My God, thou hast my heart and hand; 

I all to thee resign; 
I'll ever to this covenant stand, 

Though flesh hereat repine. 

I know that Thou wast willing first. 

And then drew my consent; 
Having thus loved me at the worst 

Thou wilt not now repent. 
Now I have quit all self-pretense, 

Take charge of what's thine own: 
My life, my health, and my defense. 

Now lie on thee alone. 

— Richard Baxter. 



THE LAST WISH 

To do or not to do; to have 

Or not to have, I leave to thee; 

To be or not to be I leave; 
Thy only will be done in me. 

All my requests are lost in one: 

Father, thy only will be done. 



Suffice that, for the season past, 
Myself in things divine I sought, 

For comforts cried with eager haste. 
And murmured that I found them not. 

I leave it now to Thee alone: 

Father, thy only will be done. 



79 



8o 



CONSECRATION 



Thy gifts I clamor for no more, 
Or selfishly thy grace require 

An evil heart to varnish o'er; 
Jesus, the Giver, I desire, 

After the flesh no longer known: 
Father, thy only will be done. 

Welcome alike the crown or cross; 

Trouble I cannot ask, nor peace. 
Nor toil, nor rest, nor gain, nor loss. 

Nor joy, nor grief, nor pain, nor ease. 
Nor life, nor death, but ever groan. 

Father, thy only will be done. 

— Charles Wesley. 



MORNING HYMN 

O God! I thank thee for each sight 
Of beauty that thy hand doth give; 

For sunny skies and air and light; 
O God, I thank thee that I live! 

That life I consecrate to Thee; 

And ever as the day is bom, 
On wings of joy my soul would flee 

And thank thee for another mom; 

Another day in which to cast 
Some silent deed of love abroad, 

That, greatening as it journeys past. 
May do some earnest work for God; 

Another day to do and dare ; 

To tax anew my growing strength; 
To arm my soul with faith and prayer, 
And so reach heaven and Thee at 
length. 

— Caroline Atherton Mason. 



"INTO THY HANDS" 

Into Thy guiding hands; 

Along a way thy love and care forefend 

Gladly I fare, or rough or smooth may 

bend 
The longest road that leads at life's far 

end 
Into thy hands. 

Into thy chastening hands: 

If e'er 1 yield to weakness or to sin, 

Blind to the guerdon Thou dost bid me 

win. 
Bring Thou me back, by Love's sweet 

discipline. 
Into thy hands. 



Into Thy healing hands; 

No hurt of soul or body long enthralls, 

The bruisdd heart that for thy succor 

calls 
When, far from doubting as from fear, 

it falls 
Into thy hands. 

Into thy saving hands: 

Despite assoil, infirmity, mistake, 

My life a perfect whole thy power can 

make. 
If Thou my shards of broken purpose 

take 
Into thy hands. 

Into Thy keeping hands; 

As safe as Heaven kept the guarded 

Grail— 
So safe, so pure, so compassed as with 

mail — 
The soul committed, e'en through 

Death's dark vale, 
Into thy hands. 

Into thy loving hands; 

Who made my heart to love made Thee 

my guest; 
Who made the world to tire made thee 

my rest; 
My joyful heart I give, at thy behest, 
Into thy hands. 

— Louise Manning Hodgkins. 



HERE AM I 



My will would like a life of ease. 
And power to do, and time to rest, 

And health and strength my will would 
please. 
But, Lord, I know thy will is best. 

If I have strength to do thy will 

That should be power enough for me, 

Whether to work or to sit still 

The appointment of the day may be. 

And if by sickness I may grow 
More patient, holy and resigned. 

Strong health I need not wish to know, 
And greater ease I cannot find. 

And rest — I need not seek it here; 

For perfect rest remaineth still; 
When in thy presence we appear 

Rest shall be given by thy will. 



CONSECRATION 



81 



Lord, I have given my life to thee, 
And every day and hour is thine; 

What thou appointest let them be: 
Thy will is better, Lord, than mine. 
— Anna B. Warner. 



THE SACRIFICE OF THE WILL 

Laid on thine altar, O my Lord Divine, 
Accept my will this day, for Jesus' 
sake ; 
I have no jewels to adorn thy shrine — 
Nor any world-proud sacrifice to make ; 
But here I bring within my trembling 
hand, 
This will of mine — a thing that 
seemeth small, 
And Thou alone, O God, canst under- 
stand 
How, when I yield Thee this, I yield 
mine all. 
Hidden therein, thy searching gaze can 
see 
Struggles of passion — visions of de- 
light- 
All that I love, and am, and fain would 
be. 
Deep loves, fond hopes, and longings 
infinite. 
It hath been wet with tears and dimmed 
with sighs. 
Clinched in my grasp, till beauty hath 
it none — 
Now, from thy footstool where it van- 
quished lies. 
The prayer ascendeth, "May thy will 
be done." 
Take it, O Father, ere my courage fail. 
And merge it so in thine own Will, 
that e'en 
If, in some desperate hour, my cries pre- 
vail, 
And thou give back my will, it may 
have been 
So changed, so purified, so fair have 
grown. 
So one with thee, so filled with peace 
divine, 
I may not see nor know it as my own. 
But, gaining back my will, may find 
it thine. 



Manlike is it to fall into sin, 
Fiendlike is it to dwell therein. 
Christlike is it for sin to grieve. 
Godlike is it all sin to leave. 

— Friedrich von Logau. 



O GOD OF TRUTH 

O God of Truth, whose living word 
Upholds whate'er hath breath. 

Look down on thy creation, Lord, 
Enslaved by sin and death. 

Set up thy standard. Lord, that they 
Who claim a heavenly birth 

May march with thee to smite the lies 
That vex thy ransomed earth. 

Ah! would we join that blest array, 

And follow in the might 
Of Him, the Faithful and the True, 

In raiment clean and white. 

We fight for truth, we fight for God — 
Poor slaves of lies and sin! 

He who would fight for thee on earth 
Must first be true within. 

Thou God of Truth for whom we long — 
Thou who wilt hear our prayer — 

Do thine own battle in our hearts; 
And slay the falsehood there. 

Still smite! still bum! till naught is left 
But God's own truth and love; 

Then, Lord, as morning dew come down, 
Rest on us from above. 

Yea, come! then, tried as in the fire, 

From every lie set free, 
Thy perfect truth shall dwell in us. 

And we shall live in Thee. 

— Thomas Hughes. 



GOD ONLY 



Lord, in the strength of grace, 
With a glad heart and free, 

Myself, my residue of days, 
I consecrate to Thee. 

Thy ransomed servant, I 
Restore to thee thine own; 

And from this moment live or die 
To serve my God alone. 

— Charles Wesley. 



In full and glad surrender we give our- 
selves to thee, 

Thine utterly and only and evermore to 
be! 

O Son of God, who lovest us, we will be 
thine alone. 

And all we are and all we have shall 
henceforth be thine own. 

— Frances Ridley Havergal. 



82 



CONSECRATION 



GOD IS EVERYWHERE 

A little bird I am, 

Shut from the fields of air; 
And in my cage I sit and sing 

To him who placed me there; 
Well pleased a prisoner to be, 
Because, my God, it pleaseth thee. 

Naught have I else to do; 

I sing the whole day long; 
And He whom most I love to please 

Doth listen to my song; 
He caught and bound my wandering 

wing, 
But still he bends to hear me sing. 

My cage confines me round, 

Abroad I cannot fiy; 
But though my wings are closely bound 

My heart's at liberty. 
My prison walls cannot control 
The flight, the freedom of my soul. 

Oh, it is grand to soar 

These bolts and bars above 

To Him whose purpose I adore, 
Whose providence I love I 

And in thy mighty will to find 

The joy, the freedom of the mind. 

— Madame Guyon. 



A CONSECRATED LIFE 

Take my life and let it be 
Consecrated, Lord, to thee. 
Take my moments and my days; 
Let them flow in ceaseless praise. 

Take my hands, and let them move 
At the impulse of thy love. 
Take my feet and let them be 
Swift and "beautiful" for Thee. 

Take my voice, and let me sing 
Always, only, for my King. 
Take my lips, and let them be 
Filled with messages from Thee. 

Take my silver and my gold; 
Not a mite would I withhold. 
Take my intellect, and use 
Every power as Thou shalt choose. 

Take my will and make it Thine; 
It shall be no longer mine. 
Take my heart; it is thine own; 
It shall be thy royal throne. 



Take my love; my Lord, I pour 
At thy feet its treasure-store. 
Take myself, and I will be 
Ever, only, all for Thee. 

— Frances Ridley Havergal. 



UNION WITH GOD 

Strong are the walls around me, 

That hold me all the day; 
But they who thus have bound me 

Cannot keep God away: 
My very dungeon walls are dear, 
Because the God I love is here. 

They know, who thus oppress me, 

'Tis hard to be alone; 
But know not One can bless me 

Who comes through bars and stone. 
He makes my dungeon's darkness bright 
And fills my bosom with delight. 

Thy love, O God! restores me 
From sighs and tears to praise; 

And deep my soul adores thee 
Nor thinks of time or place: 

I ask no more, in good or ill, 
But union with thy holy will. 

'Tis that which makes my treasure, 
'Tis that which brings my gain; 

Converting woe to pleasure. 
And reaping joy from pain. 

Oh, 'tis enough, whate'er befall. 

To know that God is All in All. 

— Madame Guyon. 



DEDICATED 



O Lord, thy heavenly grace impart. 
And fix my frail, inconstant heart; 
Henceforth my chief desire shall be 
To dedicate myself to thee. 

Whate'er pursuits my time employ. 
One thought shall fill my soul with joy: 
That silent, secret thought shall be 
That all my hopes are fixed on thee. 

Thy glorious eye pervadeth space; 
Thy presence. Lord, fills every place; 
And wheresoe'er my lot may be 
Still shall my spirit cleave to thee. 

Renouncing every worldly thing, 
And safe beneath thy spreading winef. 
My sweetest thought henceforth shall oe 
That all I want I find in thee. 

— Jean P. Oberlin. 



CONSECRATION 



83 



LEAVING ALL 

Jesus, I my cross have taken. 

All to leave and follow thee; 
Naked, poor, despised, forsaken, 

Thou, from hence, my all shalt be: 
Perish every fond ambition. 

All I've sought, and hoped, and 
known; 
Yet how rich is my condition, 

God and heaven are still my own! 

Let the world despise and leave me. 

They have left my Saviour too; 
Human hearts and looks deceive mc; 

Thou art not, like man, untrue; 
And while thou shalt smile upon me, 

God of wisdom, love, and might. 
Foes may hate, and friends may shun me ; 

Show thy face, and all is bright. 

Go, then, earthly fame and treasure! 

Come, disaster, scorn, and pain! 
In Thy service, pain is pleasure; 

With thy favor, loss is gain. 
I have called thee, "Abba, Father"; 

I have stayed my heart on thee: 
Storms may howl, and clouds may 

father, 
must work for good to me. 

Man may trouble and distress me, 

'Twill but drive me to Thy breast ; 
Life with trials hard may press me, 

Heaven will bring me sweeter rest. 
O 'tis not in grief to harm me. 

While thy love is left to me ; 
O 'twere not in joy to charm me. 

Were that joy unmixed with thee. 

Know, my soul, thy full salvation; 

Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care; 
Joy to find in every station 

Something still to do or bear. 
Think what Spirit dwells within thee; 

What a Father's smile is thine; 
What a Saviour died to win thee; 

Child of heaven, shouldst thou repine? 

Haste thee on from grace to glory, 
Armed by faith, and winged by 
prayer; 
Heaven's eternal day's before thee, 
God's own hand shall guide thee 
there. 
Soon shall close thy earthly mission. 
Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days, 
Hope shall change to glad fruition, 
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise. 
— Henry F. Lyte. 



CHOOSE THOU 

Thy way, not mine, O Lord! 

However dark it be; 
Lead me by Thine own hand, 

Choose out the path for me. 

Smooth let it be, or rough. 
It will be still the best; 

Winding or straight it matters not, 
It leads me to Thy rest. 

I dare not choose my lot, 

I would not if I might; 
Choose Thou for me, O God! 

So shall I walk aright. 

The kingdom that I seek 
Is Thine; so let the way 

That leads to it be thine 
Else I must surely stray. 

Take Thou my cup, and it 
With joy or sorrow fill; 

As best to Thee may seem; 
Choose Thou my good or ill. 

Choose Thou for me my friends 
My sickness or my health; 

Choose thou my cares for me. 
My poverty or wealth. 

Not mine, not mine the choice 
In things or great or small; 

Be Thou my guide, my strength. 
My wisdom and my all. 

— Horatius Bonar. 



ONLY TO-DAY 

Only to-day is mine. 

And that I owe to Thee; 

Help me to make it thine; 
As pure as it may be; 

Let it see something done. 

Let it see something won. 

Then at the setting sun 
I'll give it back to thee. 

What if I cannot tell 

The cares the day may bring? 
I know that I shall dwell 

Beneath Thy sheltering wing; 
And there the load is light; 
And there the dark is bright. 
And weakness turns to might. 

And so I trust and sing. 



84 



CONSECRATION 



What shall I ask to-day? 

Naught but Thine own sweet will; 
The windings of the way 

Lead to thy holy hill; 
And whether here or there 
Why should I fear or care? 
Thy heavens are everywhere, 

And they are o'er me still. 

Give me Thyself to-day, 

I dare not walk alone; 
Speak to me by the way, *- 

And "all things are my own"; 
The treasures of thy grace. 
The secret hiding place, 
The vision of thy face. 

The shadow of thy throne! 

— Henry Burton. 



THE OFFERING 

No more my own, Lord Jesus, 
Bought with thy precious blood, 

I give thee but thine own. Lord, 
That long thy love withstood. 

I give the life thou gavest. 
My present, future, past; 

My joys, my fears, my sorrows. 
My first hope and my last. 

I give thee up my weakness 
That oft distrust hath bred. 

That thy indwelling power 
May thus be perfected. 

I give the love the sweetest 
Thy goodness grants to me; 

Take it, and make it meet. Lord, 
For offering to thee. 

Smile, and the very shadows 
In thy blest light shall shine; 

Take thou my heart. Lord Jesus, 
For thou hast made it thine. 

Thou knowest my soul's ambition. 
For thou hast changed its aim 

(The world's reproach I fear not) 
To share a Saviour's shame. 

Outside the camp to suffer; 

Within the veil to meet, 
And hear Thy softest whisper 

From out the mercy-seat. 



Thou bear'st me in thy bosom, 

Amidst thy jewels worn, 
Upon thy hands deep graven 

By arms of love upborne. 

Rescued from sin's destruction. 
Ransomed from death and hell; 

Complete in Thee, Lord Jesus: 
Thou hast done all things well. 

Oh, deathless love that bought me! 

Oh, price beyond my ken! 
Oh, Life that hides my own life 

E'en from my fellow-men! 

Now fashion, form and fill me 
With light and love divine; 

So, one with Thee, Lord Jesus, 
I'm thine — forever thine! 



I IN THEE AND THOU IN ME 

I am but clay in thy hands, but Thou 
art the all-loving artist; 
Passive I lie in thy sight, yet in my 
self-hood I strive 
So to embody the life and the love thou 
ever impartest. 
That in my sphere of the finite I may 
be truly alive. 

Knowing Thou needest this form, as I 
thy divine inspiration. 
Knowing thou shapest the clay with 
a vision and purpose divine. 
So would I answer each touch of thy 
hand in its loving creation. 
That in my conscious life thy power 
and beauty may shine. 

Reflecting the noble intent Thou hast in 
forming thy creatures; 
Waking from sense into life of the 
soul, and the image of thee; 
Working with thee in thy work to model 
hvimanity's features 
Into the likeness of God, myself from 
myself I wotdd free. 

One with all human existence, no one 
above or below me; 
Lit by Thy wisdom and love, as roses 
are steeped in the mom; 
Growing from clay to a statue, from 
statue to flesh, till thou know me 
Wrought into manhood celestial, and 
in thine image reborn. 



CONSECRATION 



85 



So in thy love will I trust, bringing me 
sooner or later 
Past the dark screen that divides these 
shows of the finite from Thee. 
Thine, thine only, this warm dear life, 
O loving' Creator! 
Thine the invisible future, bom of the 
present, must be. 

— Christopher Pearse Cranch. 



ON THEE MY HEART IS RESTING 

On Thee my heart is resting: 

Ah! this is rest indeed! 
What else, Almighty Saviour, 

Can a poor sinner need? 
Thy light is all my wisdom. 

Thy love is all my stay; 
Our Father's home in glory 

Draws nearer every day. 

Great is my guilt, but greater 

The mercy Thou dost give; 
Thyself, a spotless offering, 

Hast died that I should live. 
With Thee my soul unfettered 

Has risen from the dust; 
Thy blood is all my treasure; 

Thy word is all my trust. 

Through me, thou gentle Master, 

Thy purposes fulfill: 
I yield myself forever 

To thy most holy will. 
What though I be btxt weakness 

My strength is not in me; 
The poorest of thy people 

Has all things, having Thee, 

When clouds are darkest round me. 

Thou, Lord, art then most near, 
My drooping faith to quicken, 

My weary soul to cheer. 
Safe nestling in thy bosom, 

I gaze upon thy face. 
In vain my foes would drive me 

From Thee, my hiding-place. 

'Tis Thou hast made me happy; 

'Tis thou hast set me free. 
To whom shall I give glory 

Forever but to Thee! 
Of earthly love and blessing 

Should every stream run dry. 
Thy grace shall still be with me — 

Thy grace to live and die! 

— ^Theodore Monod. 



WHOM HAVE I IN HEAVEN BUT 
THEE? 

I love, and have some cause to love, the 

earth ; 
She is my Maker's creature, therefore 

good; 
She is my mother, for she gave me birth ; 
She is my tender nurse, she gives me 

food; 
Btit what's a creature. Lord, compared 

with Thee? 
Or what's my mother or my nurse to me ? 

The highest honors that the world can 

boast 
Are subjects far too low for my desire ; 
The brightest beams of glory are, at 

most. 
But dying sparkles of thy living fire ; 
The proudest flames that earth can 

kindle be 
But nightly glowworms if compared to 

Thee. 

Without thy presence, wealth are bags 
of cares; 
Wisdom, but folly; joy, disquiet, sad- 
ness; 

Friendship is treason, and delights are 
snares ; 
Pleasure's but pain, and mirth but 
pleasing madness: 

Without Thee, Lord, things be not what 
they be. 

Nor have their being when compared 
with Thee. 

In having all things, and not Thee, what 

have I? 
Not having Thee, what have my labors 

got? 
Let me enjoy but Thee, what further 

crave I? 
And having Thee alone, what have I 

not? 
I wish nor sea nor land ; nor would I be 
Possess'd of heaven, heaven unpossess'd 

of thee. — Francis Quarles. 



Only for Jesus! Lord, keep it ever 
Sealed on the heart, and engraved on 
the life; 
Pulse of all gladness, and nerve of en- 
deavor. 
Secret of rest and the strength of our 
strife. 

— Frances Ridley Havergal. 



86 



CONSECRATION 



SINCE FIRST THY WORD AWAKED 
MY HEART 

Sinco lirsl thy word uwakcd my lu'urt, 

lyikc lU'vv life dawniii),' o'er luo, 
Where \'r I turn my eyes, Thou art 

All liKht iiiul love before me. 
Nought else I feel <ir hear or see, 

All hoiuls of earth 1 sever, 
Thee, O Cod, ami only thee, 

1 live for now and ever. 

Like him whose fetters droi)i)ed away 

When lij;ht shone o'er his orison. 
My spirit, touehed by merey s ray, 

Hath from her ehains arisen. 
And shall a soul Thon bid'st be free 

Ri'turn to bondaj^'i'? Neverl 
Thee, O Cod, and only thee, 

I live for now and ever. 

— Thomas Moore. 



WE GIVE ALL 

And now we only ask to serve. 

We do not ask to rest; 
We would give all without reserve, 

Our life, our love, our best. 

We only ask to see His face, 

It is enouph for ns; 
We t)nly ask the lowest place, 

So he may smile on us. 

— Mary E. Townsend. 



THE TWO WORLDS 

Unveil, O Lord, and on us shine 

In jj;lory and in j^raee; 
Till" jj;audy world j^rows i)ale before 

The beauty of tliy face. 

Till Thou art seen, it seems to be 

A sort of fairy jn-ound. 
Where suns unsettinjj light the sky. 

And flowers and fruits abound 

Hut when Thy keener, purer beam 

Is ])oured upon our sight. 
It los<"S all its ])ower to eharm, 

And what was day is night. 

Its noblest toils are then the scoin-ge 
Which made Thy blood to flow; 

Its joys are but the treaiherous thorns 
Which circled louiul thy brow. 



And thus, when we renounce for Thee 

Its restless aims and fears. 
The tender memories of the past, 

'I'hc hopes of coming years. 

Poor is our sacrifice, whose eyes 

Are lighted from above; 
We oiTer what we camiot keep. 

What we have ceasi-d to love. 

— John Henry Newman. 



SELF-SURRENDER 

Saviour, who died for me, 
I give tnyself to thee; 
Thy love, so full, so free, 

Claims all my powers. 
Be this my purpose high. 
To serve '1 hee till 1 die, 
Whether my i)ath shall lie 

'Mid thorns or llowers. 

liut. Lord, the flesh is weak; 

Thy gracious jiitl I seek. 

For thou the word nmst speak 

That makes me strong. 
Then let me hear thy voice, 
Thou art my oidy choice; 

bid my heart rejoice; 
Ik- thou my song. 

May it be joy to me 
To follow only Thee; 
Thy faithful servant be, 

Thine to the end. 
l^tr Thee I'll do and dare, 
I'^or thee the cross I'll bear. 
To thee direct my i)rayer. 

On thee dei)end. 

Saviour, with me abide; 
Be ever near my side; 
Support, defi-nd, and guide. 
I look to thee. 

1 lay niy hand in thine, 
Aiul llei'ting joys resign, 
If 1 may call thee mine 

ICternally. 

^Mary J. Mason. 



For all the sins that cling to thee 
Let wide the gates of jjardon be; 
But hope nt)t thou shalt smuggle through 
The little sin thou clingest to. 

— F. Langbridge, 



CONSECRATION 



87 



GOD ALONE LOVED 

Do I not love thee, Lord most higli, 
In answer to thy love for niel 

I seek no other liberty 

But that of being bound to Thee. 

May memory no thought suggest 
But shall to thy ymvc glory tend; 

May understanding hnd no rest 
Except in 'iliee, its only end. 

My God, I here protest to Thee 
No other will I liave than thine; 

Whatever th(ju hast given mo 
1 here again to Thee resign. 

All mine is thine, say but the word; 

Whate'er Thou wiliest — be it done; 
1 know thy love, all-graeious Ivord — 

I know it seeks my good alone. 

Apart from Thee all things an; naught; 

Then grant, O my supremest bliss! 
Grant me to love Thee as I ought; 

Thou givest all in giving this. 
— Ignatius Loyola, tr. by Edward Cas- 

wall. 



THE ACQUIESCENCE OP PURE 
LOVl-: 

To me 'tis ecpial whether love ordain 
My life or death, appoint me i)ain or 
ease 

My soul perceives no real ill in j)ain, 
In ease or health no real good sne sees. 

One good she covets, and that good 
alone. 
To choose thy will, from selfish bias 
free ; 
And to prefer a cottage to a throne. 
And grief to comfort, if it pleases Thee. 

That we should bear the cross is Thy 
command. 
Die to the world and live to self no 
more ; 
Suffer unmoved beneath the rudest 
hand 
When shipwrecked pleased as when 
upon the shore. 

— Madame Guyon. 



I preached as never sure to preach again, 
And as a dying man to aying men. 
— Richard Baxter. 



PRESSING TOWARD THE MARK 

Thee will I love, my strength and tower, 
The(^ will I love, my joy and crown, 

Thee will 1 love with all my power. 
In all my works, and Thee alone. 

Thee will I love, till that ])ure lire 

I'^ills my whole soul with strong desire. 

(jive to mine eyes refreshing tears; 
Give to my heart chaste, hallowed 
fires; 
(live to my soul, with filial fears 

The love that all heaven's host in- 
spires; 
That all my powers, with all their might, 
In thy .sole glory may unite. 

Thee will I love, my joy, my crown. 

Thee will I love, my I.<or(l, my God; 
Thee will 1 lov(! beneath thy frown 
Or smile, thy seei)lfr or thy rod; 
What though my head and llcsh decay? 
Thee shall I love in endless day. 

— Johann A. SchelHer, tr. by John 
Wesley. 



DWELL DEEP 

Dwell deep! The little things that chafe 
and fret, 
O wast*! not golden hours to give them 
heed! 
The slight, the thoughtless wrong, do 
thou forget. 
He self-forgot in serving others' need. 
Thou faith in G(jd through love for man 
shalt keen. 

Dwell deep, my soul, dwell deep. 

Dwell deep I Forego the pleasure if it 
bring 
Neglect of duty; consecrate each 
thought; 
Uelieve thou in the good of everything. 
And trust that all unto the wisest end 
is wrought. 
Bring thou this comfort unto all who 
weep : 

Dwell deep, my soul, dwell deep. 
— ^James Buckham. 



Out from thyself, thyself depart; 
God then shall fill thine empty heart; 
('ast from thy soul life's s«'irish dream — 
In flows the Godhead's living stream. 
— Sehelller, tr. by Frederic Rowland 
Marvin. 



PEACE 

REST, CALM, STILLNESS 



THE PEACE OF GOD 

When winds are raging o'er the upper 
ocean, 
And billows wild contend with angry 
roar, 
'Tis said, far down beneath the wild com- 
motion, 
That peaceful stillness reigneth ever- 
more. 

Far, far beneath the noise of tempest 
dieth, 
And silver waves chime ever peace- 
fully; 
And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he 
flieth, 
Disturbs the Sabbath of that deeper 
sea. 

So to the soul that knows thy love, O 

Purest, 

There is a temple peaceful evermore. 

And all the babble of life's angry voices 

Dies hushed in stillness at its sacred 

door. 

Far, far away the noise of passion dieth. 
And loving thoughts rise ever peace- 
fully; 
And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er 
he flieth. 
Disturbs that deeper rest, O Lord, in 
thee. 

O rest of rest! O peace serene, eternal! 
Thou ever livest, and thou changcst 
never ; 
And in the secret of thy jiresence dwell- 
eth 
Fullness of joy, forever and forever. 
— Harriet Beecher Stowe. 



Life's burdens fall, its discords cease, 

I lapse into the glad release 

Of Nature's own exceeding peace. 

— John Greenleaf Whittier. 



BE STILL 

Let nothing make thee sad or fretful, 
Or too regretful; 

Be still. 
What God hath ordered must be right; 
Then find in it thy own delight, 

My will! 

Why shouldst thou fill to-daywith sorrow 
About to-morrow, 

My heart? 
God watcheth all with care most true; 
Doubt not that he will give thee too 

Thy part. — Paul Fleming. 



SIT STILL 

(Ruth 3. 18.) 

Sit still, my child. 'Tis no great thing I 

ask. 
No glorious deed, no mighty task; 
But just to sit and patiently abide. 
Wait in my presence, in my word confide, 

"But oh! dear Lord, I long the sword to 

wield, 
Forward to go, and in the battle field 
To fight for thee, thine enemies o'er- 

throw, 
And in thy strength to vanquish every 

foe. 

"The harvest-fields spread out before 

me lie, 
The reapers toward me look, and vainly 

cry — 
'The field is white, the laborers are few; 
Our Lord's command is also sent to 

you,'" 

My child, it is a sweet and blessed thing 
To rest beneath the shadow of my wing; 
To feel thy doings and thy words are 

navight, 
To trust to me each restless, longing 

thought. 



88 



PEACE 



89 



"Dear Lord, help me this lesson sweet 

to learn, 
To sit at thy pierced feet and only yearn 
To love thee better, Lord, and feel that 

still 
Waiting is working, if it be thy will." 



THE QUIET MIND 

I have a treasure which I prize; 

The like I cannot find; 
There's nothing like it in the earth: 

It is a quiet mind. 

But 'tis not that I'm stupefied. 
Or senseless, dull, or blind: 

'Tis God's own peace within my soul 
Which forms my quiet mind. 

I found this treasure at the Cross. 

'Tis there to every kind 
Of heavy-laden, weary souls 

Christ gives a quiet mind. 

My Saviour's death and risen life 
To give this were designed; 

And that's the root and that's the 
branch, 
Of this my quiet mind. 

The love of God within my heart 
My heart to his doth bind; 

This is the mind of heaven on earth; 
This is my quiet mind. 

I've many a cross to take up now, 

And many left behind; 
But present trials move me not, 

Nor shake my quiet mind. 

And what may be to-morrow's cross 

I never seek to find ; 
My Saviour says. Leave that to Me, 

And keep a quiet mind. 

And well I know the Lord hath said. 
To make my heart resigned. 

That mercy still shall follow such 
As have this quiet mind. 

I meet with pride of wit and wealth, 
And scorn and looks unkind. 

It matters naught : I envy not, 
For I've a quiet mind. 

I'm waiting now to see the Lord, 

Who's been to me so kind: 
I want to thank him face to face 

For this my quiet mind. 



MY HEART IS RESTING 

My heart is resting, O my God; 

I will give thanks and sing: 
My heart is at the secret source 

Of every precious thing. 

Now the frail vessel Thou hast made 
No hand but thine shall fill — 

The waters of the earth have failed. 
And I am thirsty still. 

I thirst for springs of heavenly life, 
And here all day they rise; 

I seek the treasure of Thy love, 
And close at hand it lies. 

And a "new song" is in my mouth. 
To long-loved music set — 

Glory to Thee for all the grace 
I have not tasted yet. 

I have a heritage of joy 

That yet I must not see ; 
The hand that bled to make it mine 

Is keeping it for me. 

There is a certainty of love 
That sets my heart at rest; 

A calm assurance for to-day 
That to be poor is best! 

A prayer reposing on His truth. 
Who hath made all things mine; 

That draws my captive will to him, 
And makes it one with thine. 

— ^Anna Letitia Waring. 



KEPT IN PERFECT PEACE 

Peace, perfect peace, in this dark world 
of sin? 

The voice of Jesus whispers Peace with- 
in. 

Peace, perfect peace, by thronging duties 

pressed ? 
To do the will of Jesus, this is rest. 

Peace, perfect peace, with sorrow surg- 
ing round? 

On Jesus' bosom naught but rest is 
found. 

Peace, perfect peace, with loved ones 

far away? 
In Jesus' keeping we are safe, and they. 



90 



PEACE 



Peace, perfect peace, our future all un- 
known ? 
Jesus we know, and he is on the throne. 

Peace, perfect peace, death shadowing 

us and ours? 
Jesus has vanquished death and all its 

powers. 

It is enough: earth's struggles now do 

cease, 
And Jesus calls us to heaven's perfect 

peace. 

— Edward Henry Bickersteth. 



PERFECT PEACE 

Like a river glorious is God's perfect 

peace ; 
Over all victorious in its bright increase ; 
Perfect, yet it floweth fuller every day, 
Perfect, yet it groweth deeper all the 

way. 

Hidden in the hollow of His blessed hand, 
Never foe can follow, never traitor stand ; 
Not a surge of worry, not a shade of care, 
Not a blast of hurry touch the spirit 
there. 

Every joy or trial falleth from above. 
Traced upon our dial by the Sun of Love, 
We may trust him fully, all for us to do ; 
They who trust him wholly find him 
wholly true. 

— Frances Ridley Havergal. 



ABIDING 



In heavenly love abiding, 

No change my heart shall fear 
And safe is such confiding, 

For nothing changes here. 
The storm may roar without me. 

My heart may low be laid. 
But God is round about me, 

And can I be dismayed? 

Whenever he may guide me, 

No want shall tvtm me back; 
My Shepherd is beside me. 

And nothing can I lack. 
His wisdom ever waketh. 

His sight is never dim. 
He knows the way he taketh. 

And I will walk with him. 



Green pasttires are before me. 

Which yet I have not seen; 
Bright skies will soon be o'er me. 

Where darkest clouds have been. 
My hope I cannot measure, 

My path to life is free. 
My Saviour has my treasure, 

And he will walk with me. 

— Anna Letitia Waring. 



CALM 



I stand upon the Mount of God 
With sunlight in my soul; 

I hear the storms in vales beneath, 
I hear the thunders roll. 

But I am calm with thee, my God, 
Beneath these glorious skies; 

And to the height on which I stand. 
No storms, nor clouds, can rise. 

O, THIS is life! O, this is joy! 

My God, to find thee so; 
Thy face to see, thy voice to hear. 

And all thy love to know. 

— Horatius Bonar. 



DIVINE PEACE 

Peace upon peace, like wave upon wave. 
This the portion that I crave; 
The peace of God which passcth thought, 
The peace of Christ which change th not. 

Peace like the river's gentle flow. 
Peace like the morning s silent glow. 
From day to day, in love supplied. 
An endless and uncbbing tide. 

Peace flowing on without decrease. 
From him who is our joy and peace. 
Who, by his reconciling blood, 
Hath made the sinner's peace with God. 

Peace through the night and through 

the day, 
Peace through the windings of our way; 
In pain, and toil, and weariness, 
A deep and everlasting peace. 

O King of peace, this peace bestow 
Upon a stranger here below; 
O God of peace, thy peace impart. 
To every sad and troubled heart. 



PEACE 



91 



Peace from the Father and the Son, 
Peace from the Spirit, all his own; 
Peace that shall never more be lost. 
Of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. 

— Horatius Bonar. 



A QUIET HEART 

Quiet, Lord, my froward heart: 
Make me teachable and mild; 

Upright, simple, free from art; 
Make me as a weaned child, 

From distrust and envy free, 

Pleased with all that pleaseth thee. 

What thou shalt to-day provide 

Let me as a child receive; 
What to-morrow may betide 

Calmly to thy wisdom leave. 
'Tis enough that thou wilt care: 

Why should I the burthen bear? 

As a little child relies 

On a care beyond his own; 

Knows he's neither strong nor wise, 
Fears to stir a step alone; 

Let me thus with thee abide, 
As my Father, Guard and Guide. 
— John Newton. 



REST WHERE YOU ARE 

When, spurred by tasks unceasing or 
tmdone. 
You would seek rest afar, 
And can not, though repose be rightly 
won — 
Rest where you are. 

Neglect the needless; sanctify the rest; 

Move without stress or jar; 
With quiet of a spirit self-possessed 

Rest where you are. 

Not in event, restriction, or release. 

Not in scenes near or far, 
But in ourselves are restlessness or 
peace. 

Rest where you are. 

Where lives the soul lives God; his day, 
his world. 
No phantom mists need mar; 
His starry nights are tents of peace un- 
furled : 
Rest where you are. 



BE ALL AT REST 

Be all at rest, my soul towardiGod; from him 
comes my salvation. Psa. 62. i. 

"Be all at rest, my soul." OhI blessed 

secret 
Of the true life that glorifies thy Lord: 
Not always doth the busiest soul best 

serve him, 
But he who resteth on his faithful word. 

"Be all at rest." — "let not your heart 

be rippled," 
For tiny wavelets mar the image fair 
Which the still pool reflects of heaven's 

glory— 
And thus the Image he would have you 

bear. 

"Be all at rest," — for rest is highest 

service ; 
To the still heart God doth his secrets 

tell: 
Thus shall thou learn to wait, and watch, 

and labor. 
Strengthened to bear, since Christ in 

thee doth dwell. 

For what is service but the life of Jesus 

Lived through a vessel of earth's 

fragile clay; 

Loving and giving; poured forth for 

others; 

"A living sacrifice" from day to day? 

And what shall meet the deep unrest 
around thee 
But the calm peace of God that filled 
his breast? 
For still a living voice must call the 
weary 
To him who said, "Come unto me and 
rest." 

Therefore "be all at rest, my soul," 
toward him. 
If thou a revelation of the Lord 
would'st be; 
For in the qviiet confidence that never 
doubts him, 
Others his truth and faithfulness shall 
see. 

" Be all at rest," for rest alone becometh 
The soul that casts on him its every 
care ; 
"Be all at rest" — so shall thy life pro- 
claim him 
A God who worketh and who heareth 
prayer. 



92 



PEACE 



"Be all at rest" — so shalt thou be an 
answer 
To those who question, " Who is God, 
and where?' 
For God is rest, and whiMV ho dwells is 
stillness, 
And they who dwell in him that rest 
shall share. 

— Freda Hanbury Allen. 



REST 

Sweet is the pleasure 

Itself cannot spoil I 
Is not tnie leisure 

One with true toil? 

Thou that wouldsl taste it, 

Still do thy best; 
Use it, not waste it, 

Else 'tis no rest. 

Wouldst behold beauty 
Near thee all round? 

Only hath duty 

Such a sight found. 

Rest is not quitting 

The busy career; 
Rest is the fitting 

Of self to its sphere. 

'Tis the brook's motion, 
Clear without strife, 

Fleeing to ocean 
After its life. 

Deeper devotion 

Nowhere hath knelt; 

Fuller emotion 
Heart never felt. 

'Tis loving and serving 
The Highest and Best! 

*Tis onwards, unswerving, 
And that is true rest. 

— ^John Sullivan Dwight. 



There is peace in power; the men who 
speak 
With the loudest tongues do least; 
And the surest sign of a mind that is 
weak 
Is its want of the power to rest. 

—John Boyle O'Reilly. 



EQUANIMITY 

Tost on a sea of troubles. Soul, my Soul, 

Thyself do thou control; 
And to the weapons of advancing foes 

A stubborn breast o])i)ose: 
Undaunted 'mid the hostile might 
Of squadrons burning for the fight 
Thine be no boasting when the victor's 

crown 

Wins tliee deserved renown; 
Thine no dojocted sorrow, when defeat 

Would urge a base retreat; 
Rejoice in joyous things — nor overmuch 

Let grief thy bosom touch 
'Midst evil, and still bear in mind 
How changeful are the ways of human- 
kind. 
— Archilochos, tr. by William Hay. 



GOD'S PEACE 

Grant us Thv peace, down from thy 
]iresence falling, 
As on the thirsty earth cool night- 
dews sweet; 
(irant us thy peace, to thy pure paths 
recalling, 
From devious ways, our worn and 
wandering feet. 

Grant us Thy peace, through winning 
and througli losing, 
Thnnigh gkH>m and gladness of our 
])ilgrim way; 
Grant us thy peace, safe in thy love's 
enclosing. 
Thou who all things in heaven and 
earth dost sway. 

Give us Thy peace, not as the world has 
given, 
In momentary rays that fitful 
gleamed, 
But calm, deep, sure, tlie peace of 
si>irits shriven. 
Of hearts surrendered and of souls re- 
deemed. 



Grant us thy peace, that like a deepening 
river 
Swells ever outward to the sea of 
praise. 
O thou of peace the only Lord and Giver, 
Grant us thy peace, O Savioiir, all our 
days. — Eliza Scudder, 



PEACE 



93 



THE INNER CALM 

Calm mc, my God, and keep me calm, 
While these hot breezes blow; 

He like the nij^ht-dew's cooling l)alm 
Upon earth's fevered brow. 

Calm me, my God, and keep me calm, 

Soft resting on thy breast; 
Soothe me with holy hymn and psalm 

And bid my spirit rest. 

Yes, keep mc calm, though loud and 
rude 

The sounds my ear that greet; 
Calm in the closet's solitude, 

Calm in the bustling street; 

Calm in the hotir of buoyant health, 

Calm in my hour of jxiin, 
Calm in my poverty or wealth. 

Calm in my loss or gain; 

Calm when the great world's news with 
jjower 

My listening spirit stir; 
Let not the tidings of the hour 

E'er find too fond an ear; 

Calm as the ray of sun or star 
Which storms assail in vain; 

Moving unrullled through earth's war, 
The eternal calm to gain. 

— Mora tins Bonar. 



Father, take not away 
The burden of the day. 

But help me that I tear it 
As Christ his burden bore 
When cross and thorn he wore 

And none with him could share it; 
In his name help I pray! 

I only ask for grace 
To sec that patient face 

And my impatient one; 
Ask that mine grow like His — 
Sign of an inward peace 

l^'rom trust in thee alone. 
Unchanged by time or place. 



And they who do their souls no wrong, 
But keep at eve the faith of morn, 

Shall daily hear the angel-song. 

To-day the Prince of Peace is l)()rn. 
— James Russell Lowell. 



Drop thy still dcA^s of quietness, 

Till all our strivings cease; 
Take from our souls thes train and stress, 
And let our ordered lives confess 

The beauty of thy peace. 

Breathe through the heats of our desire 

Thy coolness and thy balm; 
Let sense be dumb, let ilesh retire; 
Speak through the earthquake, wind, 
and lire, 
O still, small voice of calm! 

— John Greenleaf Whitlier. 



As flows the river calm and deej). 

In silence toward the sea. 
So lloweth ever, and ceaseth never. 

The love of God to me. 

What peace He bringcth to my heart, 

Deej) as the soundless sea; 
How sweetly singcth the soul that cling- 

eth, 
My k)ving Lord, to thee. 



He fails never, 
H He cannot work by us He will work 
through us. 
Let our souls be calm. 
We should be ashamed to sit beneath 

those stars. 
Impatient that we're nothing. 
Get work, get work; be sure 'tis better 
Than what you work to get. 

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



Calm Soul of all things, make it mine 

To feel amid the city's jar. 
That there abides a i)eaec of thine 

Man di<l not make and cannot mar. 
The will to neither strive nor cry. 

The power to feel with others give; 
C'alm, calm me mo/e, nor let mc die 

Before 1 have begun to live. 

— Matthew Arnold. 



What secret trouble stirs thy heart? 

Why all this fret and flurry? 
Dost thou not know that what is best 
In this too restless world is rest 

From over-work and hurry? 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



94 



PEACE 



We bless thee for thy peace, O God, 

Deep as the boundless sea, 
It falls like sunshine on the road, 

Of those who trust in thee; 
That peace which suffers and is strong, 

Trusts where it cannot sec; 
Deems not the trial way too long, 

But leaves the end with thee. 



Be calm in arguing : for fierceness rrikkcs 
Error a fault, and truth discourtesy. 
Why should I feel another man's mis- 
takes 
More than his sicknesses or poverty? 
In love I should; but anger is not love. 
Nor wisdom, neither; therefore gently 
move. — George Herbert. 



Why fret thee, soul. 
For things beyond thy small control? 
But do tny part, and thou shalt see 
Heaven will have charge of them and 

thee. 
Sow then thy seed, and wait in peace 
The Lord's increase. 



What is the use of worrying 
And flurrying and scurrying 

And breaking up one's rest; 
When all the world is teaching us 
And praying and beseeching us 

That quiet ways are best. 



I feel within me 
A peace above all earthly dignities 
A still and quiet conscience. 

— William Shakespeare. 



The stormy blast is strong, but mightier 

still 
The calm that binds the storm beneath 

its peaceful will. 

— ^John Sterling. 



As running water cleanseth bodies 

dropped therein 
So heavenly truth doth cleanse the 

secret heart from sin. 
— From the Sanskrit, tr. by Frederic 
Rowland Marvin. 



From our ill-ordered hearts we oft are 

fain to roam. 
As men go forth who find unquietness 

at home. 

— Richard Chenevix Trench. 



A mind from every evil thought set free 
I count the noblest gift of Deity. 
— .i?2schylus, tr. by Frederic Rowland 
Marvin. 



A stone makes not great rivers turbid 

grow; 
When saints are vexed their shallowness 

they show. — Saadi. 



Yes, Lord, one great eternal yes 
To all my Lord shall say; 

To what I know, or yet shall know. 
In all the untried way. 



Good striving 

Brings thriving. 
Better a dog who works 
Than a lion who shirks. 

— From the Persian. 



HUxMILITY 



MEEKNESS, WEAKNESS, SELFLESSNESS 



*/a last prayer 

Father, I scarcely dare to pray. 
So clear I see, now it is done, 

That I have wasted half my day 
And left my work but just begun. 

So clear I see that things I thought 
Were right, or harmless, were a sin; 

So clear I see that I have sought 
Unconscious, selfish aims to win; 

So clear I see that I have hurt 

The souls I might have helped to save ; 

That I have slothful been, inert, 
Deaf to the calls Thy leaders gave. 

In outskirts of thy kingdom vast. 
Father, the humblest spot give me; 

Set me the lowliest task thou hast; 
Let me, repentant, work for thee. 
— Helen Himt Jackson. 



A LOWLY HEART 

Thy home is with the humble. Lord! 

The simplest arc the best. 
Thy lodging is in child-like hearts: 

Thou makest there thy rest. 

Dear Comforter! Eternal Love! 

If thou wilt stay with me, 
Of lowly thoughts and simple ways 

I'll build a house for thee. 

Who made this beating heart of mine 
But Thou, my heavenly guest? 

Let no one have it, then, but thee. 
And let it be thy rest. 

— Lyra Catholica. 



Before the eyes of men let duly shine 

thy light. 
But ever let thy life's best part be out 

of sight. 

— Richard Chenevix Trench. 



KNOWLEDGE AND WISDOM 

I. 
The Man who Loved the Names of 
Things 
Went forth beneath the skies 
And named all things that he beheld. 

And people called him wise. 
An unseen presence walked with him 

Forever by his side. 
The wedded mistress of his soul — 

For Knowledge was his bride; 
She named the flowers, the weeds, the 

trees. 
And all the growths of all the seas. 

She told him all the rocks by name. 

The winds and whence they blew; 
She told him how the seas were formed. 

And how the mountains grew. 
She numbered all the stars for him; 

And all the rounded skies 
Were mapped and charted for the gaze 

Of his devouring eyes. 
Thus, taught by her, he taught the 

crowd ; 
They praised — and he was very proud. 

II. 
The Man who Loved the Soul of Things 

Went forth serene and glad, 
And mused upon the mighty world. 

And people called him mad. 
An unseen presence walked with him 

Forever by his side. 
The wedded mistress of his soul — 

For Wisdom was his bride. 
She showed him all this mighty frame. 
And bade him feel — but named no name. 

She stood with him upon the hills 

Ringed by the azure sky, 
And shamed his lowly thought with stars 

And bade it climb as high. 
And all the birds he could not name, 

The nameless stars that roll. 
The unnamed blossoms at his feet 

Talked with him soul to soul; 
He heard the Nameless Glory speak 
In silence — and was very meek. 

— Sam Walter Foss. 



95 



96 



HUMILITY 



THE INQUIRY 

I wonder if ever a song was sung but 

the singer's heart sang sweeter! 
I wonder if ever a rhyme was rung but 

the thought surpassed the meter! 
I wonder if ever a sculptor wrought till 

the cold stone echoed his ardent 

thought! 
Or if ever the painter with light and 

shade the dream of his inmost heart 

portrayed! 

I wonder if ever a rose was found and 
there might not be a fairer! 

Or if ever a glittering gem was ground 
and we dreamed not of a rarer! 

Ah! never on earth do we find the best; 
but it waits for us in the land of rest, 

And a perfect thing we shall never be- 
hold till we pass the portals of shin- 
ing gold. 



A SONG OF LOW DEGREE 

He that is down need fear no fall; 

He that is low, no pride; 
He that is humble ever shall 

Have God to be his guide. 

I am content with what I have, 

Little be it, or much; 
And, Lord, contentment still I crave, 

Because thou savcst such. 

Fullness to such a burden is 

That go on pilgrimage; 
Here little, and hereafter bliss. 

Is best from age to age. 

— ^John Bunyan. 



NOT YET PREPARED 

O thou unpolished shaft, why leave the 
quiver? 
O thou blunt axe, what forests canst 
.thou hew? 
Untempercd sword, canst thou the op- 
pressed deliver? 
Go back to thine own maker's forge 
anew. 

Submit thyself to God for preparation. 

Seek not to teach thy Master and thy 

Lord ; 

Call it not zeal ; it is a base temptation. 

Satan is pleased when man dictates 

to God. 



Down with thy pride! with holy ven- 
geance trample 
On each self-flattering fancy that ap- 
pears ; 
Did not the Lord himself, for our ex- 
ample. 
Lie hid in Nazareth for thirty years? 



RECESSIONAL 

God of our fathers, known of old — 
Lord of our far-flung battle-line — 

Beneath whose awful hand we hold 
Dominion over palm and pine — 

Lord God of hosts, be with us yet. 

Lest we forget — lest we forget. 

The tumult and the shouting dies — 
The Captains and the Kings depart — 

Still stands thine ancient sacrifice. 
An humble and a contrite heart. 

Lord God of hosts, be with us yet, 

Lest we forget — lest we forget. 

Far-called our navies melt away — 
On dune and headland sinks the fire — 

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday 
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre. 

Judge of the nations, spare us yet. 

Lest we forget — lest we forget. 

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose 
Wild tongues that have not thee in 
awe — 

Such boastings as the Gentiles use. 
Or lesser breeds without the Law — 

Lord God of hosts, be with us yet. 

Lest we forget — lest we forget. 

For heathen heart that puts her trust 
In reeking tube and iron shard — 

All valiant dust that builds on dust, 
And guarding calls not Thee to guard . 

For frantic boast and foolish word, 

Thy mercy on thy people. Lord. 

— Rudyard Kipling. 



In humbleness, O Lord, I ask 

That thou bestow on me 
The will and strength to do some task 

For growth of love for thee; 
Some task, not of my chosen will — 

For wisdom is not mine — 
But let my frailsome life fulfill 

Some perfect thought of thine. 



HUMILITY 



97 



I WILL NOT SEEK 

I cannot think but God must know 
About the thing I long for so; 
I know he is so good, so kind, 
I cannot think but he will find 
Some way to help, some way to show 
Me to the thing I long for so. 

I stretch my hand; it lies so near, 
It looks so sweet, it looks so dear, 
"Dear Lord," I pray, "O let me know 
If it is wrong to want it so!" 
He only smiles, he does not speak; 
My heart grows weaker and more weak 
With looking at the thing so dear. 
Which lies so far, and yet so near. 

Now, Lord, I leave at thy loved feet 
This thing which looks so near, so sweet ; 
I will not seek, I will not long; 
I almost fear I have been wrong; 
I'll go, and work the harder, Lonl, 
And wait, till by some loud, clear word 
Thou callest me to thy loved feet 
To take this thing so dear, so sweet. 
— Saxe Holm. 



TRIUMPHING IN OTHERS 

Others shall sing the song. 
Others shall right the wrong, 
Finish what I begin, 
And all I fail of win. 

What matter, I or they, 
Mine or another's day. 
So the right word be said. 
And life the sweeter made? 

Ring, bells in unreared steeples, 
The joy of unborn peoples! 
Sound, trumpets far-off blown. 
Your triumpn is my own. 

— ^John Grecnleaf Whittier. 



Pitch thy behaviour low, thy projects 
high; 
So shalt thou humble and magnani- 
mous be; 
Sink not in spirit; who aimeth at the sky 
Shoots higher much than he that 
means a tree. 
A grain of glory mixed with humbleness 
Cures both a fever and lethargickness. 
— George Herbert. 



FOR DIVINE STRENGTH 

Father, in thy mysterious presence 
kneeling, 
Fain would our souls feel all thy 
kindling love; 
For we are weak and need some deep re- 
vealing 
Of trust, and strength, and calmness 
from above. 

Lord, we have wandered far through 
doubt and sorrow, 
And thou hast made each step an 
onward one; 
And we will ever trust each unknown 
morrow — 
Thou wilt sustain us till its work is 
done. 

In the heart's depths a peace serene and 
holy 
Abides; and when pain seems to have 
its will. 
Or we despair, O may that peace rise 
slowly 
Stronger than agony, and wc be still! 

Now, Father, now, in thy dear presence 
kneeling, 
Our spirits yearn to feel thy kindling 
love; 
Now make us strong, we need thy deep 
revealing. 
Of trust, and strength, and calmness 
from above. — Samuel Johnson. 



WHEN I AM WEAK THEN AM I 
STRONG 

Half feeling our own weakness, 

We place our hands in Thine — 
Knowing but half our darkness 

We ask for light divine. 
Then, when Thy strong arm holds us. 

Our weakness most we feel, 
And thy love and light around us 

Our darkness must reveal. 

Too oft, when faithless doubtings 

Around our spirits press, 
Wc cry, "Can hands so feeble 

Grasp such almightiness?" 
While thus we doubt and tremble 

Our hold still looser grows; 
While on our darkness gazing 

Vainly thy radiance ^ows. 



98 



HUMILITY 



Oh, cheer us with Thy brightness, 

And guide us by thy hand, 
In thy Hght teach us light to see, 

In thy strength strong to stand. 
Then though our hands be feeble, 

If they but touch thine arm, 
Thy light and power shall lead us. 

And keep us strong and calm. 



t/ 



A HUMBLE HEART 



I would not ask Thee that my days 
Should flow quite smoothly on and on. 

Lest I should learn to love the world 
Too well, ere all my time was done. 

I would not ask Thee that my work 
Should never bring me pain nor fear; 

Lest I should learn to work alone. 
And never wish thy presence near. 

I would not ask Thee that my friends 
Should always kind and constant be; 

Lest I should learn to lay my faith 
In them alone, and not in thee. 

But I would ask a humble heart, 
A changeless will to work and wake, 

A firm faith in Thy providence. 
The rest^ — 'tis thine to give or take. 
— Alfred Norris. 



Knowledge and wisdom, far from being 

one, 
Have ofttimes no connection. Knowl- 
edge dwells 
In heads replete with thoughts of other 

men; 
Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. 
Knowledge, a rude, unprofitable mass, 
The mere material with which Wisdom 

builds, 
Till smoothed, and squared, and fitted 

to its place, 
Does but encumber whom it seems to 

enrich. 
Knowledge is proud that he has learned 

so much, 
Wisdom is humble that he knows no 

more. — William Cowper. 



Humble we must be if to heaven we go; 
High is the roof there; but the gate is 
low. —Robert Herrick. 



NOT MINE 

It is not mine to run, with eager feet, 
Along life's crowded ways, my Lord to 
meet. 

It is not mine to pour the oil and wine 
Or bring the purple robe and linen fine. 

It is not mine to break at his dear feet 
The alabaster box of ointment sweet. 

It is not mine to bear his heavy cross, 
Or suffer, for his sake, all pain and loss. 

It is not mine to walk through valleys 

dim, 
Or climb far mountain heights alone 

with him. 

He hath no need of me in grand affairs, 
Where fields are lost or crowns won 
unawares. 

Yet, Master, if I may make one pale 

flower 
Bloom brighter, for thy sake, though 

one short hour; 

If I ^n harvest fields where strong ones 

reap, 
May bind one golden sheaf for love to 

keep; 

May speak one quiet word when all is 

still, 
Helping some fainting heart to bear thy 

will; 

Or sing some high, clear song on which 

may soar 
Some glad soul heavenward, I ask no 

more. 

— ^Julia Caroline Ripley Dorr. 



Christ wants the best. He in the far- 
off ages 
Once claimed the firstling of the flock, 
the finest of the wheat; 
And still he asks his own with gentlest 
pleading 
To lay their highest hopes and bright- 
est talents at his feet. 
He'll not forget the feeblest service, 
humblest love; 
He only asks that of otir stores we 
give to him the best we have. 



HUMILITY 



99 



PRAISE DEPRECATED 

My sins and follies, Lord, by thee 

From others hidden are. 
That such good words are spoke of me 

As now and then I hear; 
For sure if others know me such, 

Such as myself I know, 
I should have been dispraised as much 

As I am prais6d now. 

The praise, therefore, which I have 
heard. 

Delights not so my mind, 
As those things make my heart afeard 

Which in myself I find; 
And I had rather to be blamed. 

So I were blameless made, 
Than for much virtue to be famed 

When I no virtues had. 

Though slanders to an innocent 

Sometimes do bitter grow. 
Their bitterness procures content, 

If clear himself he know. 
And when a virtuous man hath erred 

If praised himself he hear. 
It makes him grieve and more afeard 

Than if he slandered were. 

Lord, therefore make my heart upright, 

Whate'er my deeds do seem; 
And righteous rather in thy sight, 

Than in the world's esteem. 
And if aught good appears to be 

In any act of mine. 
Let thankfulness be found in me. 

And all the praise be thine. 

— George Wither (1588-1667). 



One part, one little part, we dimly scan. 
Through the dark medium of life's 
feverish dream; 
Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous 
plan. 
If but that little part incongruous 
seem. 
Nor is that part, perhaps, what mortals 

deem. 
Oft from apparent ill our blessings rise. 
O then renounce that impious self- 
esteem 
That aims to trace the secrets of the 

skies ; 
For thou art but of dust, be humble 
and be wise. 

— ^James Beattie. 



HUMILITY 

humble me! I cannot bide the joy 
That in my Saviour's presence ever 

flows; 
May I be lowly, lest it may destroy 
The peace his childlike spirit ever 
knows. 

1 wovild not speak thy word, but by thee 

stand 
While thou dost to thine erring chil- 
dren speak; 
O help me but to keep his own com- 
mand. 
And in my strength to feel me ever 
weak ; 
Then in thy presence shall I humbly 
stay. 
Nor lose the life of love he came to 
give; 
And find at last the life, the truth, the 
way 
To where with him thy blessed serv- 
ants live; 
And walk forever in the path of truth — 
A servant, yet a son; a sire and yet a 
youth. — ^Jones Very. 



TURN FROM SELF 

This is the highest learning, 
The hardest and the best — 

From self to keep still turning. 
And honor all the rest. 

If one should break the letter, 
Yea, spirit of command. 

Think not that thou art better; 
Thou may'st not always stand! 

We all are weak — but weaker 
Hold no one than thou art; 

Then, as thou growest meeker. 
Higher will go thy heart. 

— Greorge Macdonald. 



In proud humility a pious man went 

through the field; 
The ears of com were bowing in the 

wind, as if they kneeled; 
He struck them on the head, and 

modestly began to say, 
"Unto the Lord, not unto me, such 

honors should you pay." 

— From the Persian. 



100 



HUMILITY 



MEEKNESS OF MOSES 

Moses, tin- i)iilri(>t fierce, l)ec:iiue 
The meekest tujin on earth. 

To show us how love's quiekeiiiii),' (laine 
Can give our souls new birth. 

Mt)ses, the man of meekest heart, 

!.,ost Canaan by self-will, 
'l\) show, when- j^rat'e has (loni- its part, 

How sin (leliles us still. 

'i'hou who hast taught me in thy fear. 

Yet seest me frail at best, 
Oh, j^rant me loss with Moses here, 

To gain his future rest. 

— ^John Henry Newman. 



LAUS DEO 



Let i)raise tlevote thy work, and skill 

employ 
Thy whole mind, and thy heart be lost 

in joy. 
Well-doinj; brinj,'«'lh i)ride; Ihiseonstant 

thouj^lit 
Humility, that thy best done is naujjht. 
Man tloeth nothing well, be it great or 

small. 
Save to i)raiso God; but that hath 

sav(Vl all. 
For Ciod re(|uire9 no more than thou hast 

done, 
Anil takes thy work to bless it for his 

own. — Robert Bridges. 



"A commonplace life," we say, and we 

sigh ; 
Hut why should we sigh as we say? 
The eonnnonplace sun in (hi- eonnnon- 

l>laee sky 
Makes \\\t the commonplace day. 
The moon an<l the stars are eoinmon- 

placi' things. 
And tlu" (lower that blooms and (he bird 

that sings. 
Hut dark were the world and sail our lot 
If the (lowers failed and the sun shone 

not; 
And God, who studies each separate soul 
Out of connnoni)laee lives makes his 

beautiful whole. 



Humility, that low, sweet root 
From which all, heavenly virtues shoot. 
— Thomas Moore. 



THE EVERLASTING MEMORIAL 

Up and away, like the dew of the morn- 

That soars from the earth to its home 
in the sun. 
So let me steal away, gently and lov- 

i'>Kly. 
Only remembered by what I have 
done. 



My name, and my ])lace, and my tomb 
all forgotten, 
The brief race of time well and pa- 
tiently run. 
So let me jjass away, peacefully, silently, 
Only remembered by what 1 have 
done. 

Ciladly away from this (oil would I 
hasten, 
Up ti) the crown (ha( fur me has been 
won; 
Unthought of by man in rewards or in 
praise^^ 
Only retnembered by what I have 
done. 

V\> and away, like the odors of sunset, 
That swci'tcn the ( wilight as evening 
comes on. 
So be my life — a thing felt but not 
notii'cd, — 
And I but rcmemberi'd by what I 
have done. 

Yes, like the fragrance that wanders in 
freshness 
When (he (lowers that it came from 
are closed up and gone. 
So would I be to this world's weary 
dwellers 
Only remembered by what I have 
done. 

I need no(- be missed, if niv lid' has been 
bearing 
(As its summer and autumn move 
silently on) 
The bloom, and the fruit, and the seed 
of its season; 
I shall still be remembered by what I 
have done. 

Needs (here (he jiraise of the love- 
written record. 
The name and the epitaph graved on 
the stone? 



HUMILITY 



lOI 



The things we have Hvcd for — let thorn 
be our story — 
We ourselves but remembered by 
what we have done. 

I need not be missed if another succeed 
me, 
To reap down the fields which in 
spring I have sown; 
He wno plowed and who sowed is not 
missed by the reajjer, 
He is only remembered by what he 
has done. 

Not myself, but the trvith that in life I 
have spoken, 
Not myself, but the seed that in life 
I have sown, 
Shall pass on to ages — all about me for- 
gotten, 
Save the truth I have spoken, the 
things I have done. 

So let my living be, so be my dying; 
So let my name lie, unbluzoned, im- 
known; 
Unpraised and unmissed, I shall slill be 
remembered ; 
Yes, but remembered for what I have 
done. — Horatius Bonar. 



SELF 

O I could go through all life's troubles 
singing. 
Turning earth's night to day, 
If self were not so fast around me cling- 
ing, 
To all I do or say. 

O Lord! that I could waste my life for 
others. 
With no ends of my own. 
That I could pour myself into my 
brothers 
And live for them alone! 



Such was the life thou livedst; self-ab- 
juring, 
Thine own pains never easing, 
Our burdens bearing, our just doom 
enduring; 
A life without self-pleasing. 

— Frederick William Faber. 



BRINGING OUR SHEAVES WITH 
US 

The time for toil is past, and night has 
come — 
The last and saddest of the harvest 
eves ; 
Worn out with labor, long and weari- 
some, 
Drooping and faint, the reapers hasten 
home, 
ICach laden with his sheaves. 

Last of the laborers, thy feet I gain. 
Lord of the harvest! and my sjjjrit 
grieves 
That I am burdened not so much with 

jjrain 
As with a heaviness of heart and brain; 
Master, behold my sheaves. 

Few, light, and worthless — yet their 
triding weight 
Through all my frame a weary aching 
leaves ; 
For long I struggled with my hapless 

fate, 
And stayed and toiled till it was dark 
and late — 
Yet these are all my sheaves. 

Full well I know 1 have more tares than 
wheat. 
Brambles and flowers, dry stalks and 
withered leaves; 
Whereft^re I blush and weep as at thy 

feet 
I kneel down reverently aiul repeat, 
"Master, behold my shea vis!' 

I know these blossoms clustering 

heavily, 
With evening dew upon their folded 

leaves. 
Can claim no value or utility — 
Therefore shall fragraney and beauty 

be 
The glory of my sheaves. 

So do I gather strength and hope anew; 
For well I know thy patient love per- 
ceives 
Not what I did, but what I strove to do, 
And though the full ripe ears be sadly 
few 
Thou wilt accept my sheaves. 

— Elizabeth Akers. 



HUMILITY 



I pray not that 
Men troml>lo at 
My |)o\vt'f of pUicc, 

And lorilly sway, 
I only jM'iiy fur simple j:;racc 
To Idok my noij^hhor in the face 

Fnll honi'Stly from day to tlay. 
— Jii'iH'S Whitcoml) kili-y. 



If thiHT art bU'st, 

'riu'ii K't the snnshine of thy gladness 

ri'st 
On the ilark edges of each cloud that lies 
Ulaclc in thy brother's skies. 
If tln)U art sail, 

Still be in thy brother's gladness glad. 
— Hamilton. 



I'Mower in the crannied wall, 

I ])luck you out of the crannies, 

I holil you hero, root and all, in my 

hand. 
Little ilower — but if 1 covild mulerstand 
What you are, root and all, and all in all, 
I should know what (hul an<l man is. 
— Alfred Tennysoti. 



Praise not thy work, but let thy work 
praise thee; 
I'\)r deeds, not words, make eaih 
man's memory stable. 
If what thou dost is good, its good all 
men will see; 
Musk by its smell is known, not by its 
label. 



When thou art fain to trace a maj) of 

thine own heart, 
An undiscoveivd laml set down the 

largest oart. 

— Richard C'henevix Trench. 



Patient, ri'signed and humble wills 
Iniprt'ifnably resist all ills. 

— Thomas ken. 



He is one to whom 
Long i)atience hath svich mild com- 
posure given, 
That T)atience now doth seem 

ol which 
lie hath no need. 

— William Wordsworth. 



thing 



Be not t(H) ready to condemn 

The wrong thy brothers may have 
done : 
I'^-e ye too harshly censure them 
l'\)r human faults, ask, "Have I 
none?" — Eliza Cook. 



Search thine own heart. What ]nuneth 

thee 
In others in thyself may be; 
All dust is frail, all lle.sh is weak; 
Be thou the true man thou dost seek. 
— John Greenleaf Whittier. 



Through wish, resolve, and act, our will 
Is moved by imdreamed forces still; 
And no man nu'asures in advani'c 
His strength with untrie<l circtnnstance. 
— John (Ireenleaf Whittier. 



babor with what zeal we will, 
Something still remains uiuhine. 

Something mieompleted still 
Wails the rising of the sun. 
— Ileiny Wailsworth Ivongfellow. 



In the deed that no man knoweth, 
Where no iiraiseful trumpet bloweth, 
WhtMV he mav not reai) who soweth. 
There, Lord, let my neart serve thee 



O wad s(Mne power the giftie gie us 
To see oursels as ithers see us I 
It wad frae mony a blunder free us, 
An' f(u>lish notion. 

— Robert Burns. 



CONTENT]VTr:NT 

RESIGNATION, J'A'riKNCK, COMIM'INSA'I'ION 



CONTENTMJCN'I' 

l'\'ithor, I know that all my life 

Is jJortiotT'd out for me, 
And the chiuij^'i'S that arc sure to come 

J do not fear to sec; 
I ask 'rh(H^ for a nal.icnt. mind, 

Intent on ])lcasm),' thee. 

I nsk Thfc for a thoiij^htfnl love, 
'I'ln-on^'h consl,a,nt watchini;; wise, 

'l"o mct'(. the! }i;lad with joyful smiles, 
And wip(! (lie weei)in.ii eyes, 

And a he;irt, .'it leisure from itself. 
To soothe and sympathize. 

I would not have the restless will 

'i'hat hurries to and fro, 
Seekiuf^ for some j,'reat thinj^ to do. 

Or seeret thinj^ to know; 
1 would he treated as a ehild, 

And fitiidc'd whi-re J yn. 

Wherever in this world 1 am, 

In wh.'itsoe'er estate, 
I have a fellowshij) with hearts 

'Po keep and eultivate. 
And a work of lowly love to do 

For the Lord on whom I wail. 

So I ask Thee for the daily s(ren};l1i 

To none that ask denied — 
And a mind to blend with outward lile, 

While keepinj,' at thy side, 
Content to liil a Hlllc sjjace, 

If thou be glorificfl. 

And if some things I do not ask 

In my eup of j)lessinj^ he, 
I would h;i,ve my spirit tilled tlx- nioiv 

With grateful lov*; to the(>; 
More eareful not to serve tliee nmeli, 

But to please thee perfectly. 

There are briers besetting every ])alli, 
Which call for constant care; 

There is a cross in every lot, 
And an earnest need for jiniyer; 

fiut a lowly heart, that leans on Thee, 
Is happy everywhere. 



In a service which 'fhy love a[)points 

There are no bonds for me, 
l"'or my secret heart has learned the 
truth 
Which makes lliy children free, 
And a life of self-renouncing love 
Is a life of liberty. 

— Aima bi'lilia Waring. 



TWO PICTURES 

An old farm house with meadows wide, 
And swi'ct with clover on each side; 
A bright-eyed boy, who looks from otit 
The door with woodbine wreathed 

about, 
And wishes his on<' thouj>|il all day: 
"() if I could but fly awayl 
I''roin this dull sjxit the world to see, 

I low ha|)py, happy, happy, 

How hai)py 1 should be| 



Amid the city's constant din, 

A man who round the world has been. 

Who, 'mid the tunmlt and the throng, 

Is thinUing, thinking all day long: 

"() could I only tread once more 

The lield-i)a(,h to the farm-house door, 

The old green meadow cotild I see, 

How hap|)y, Iia|>|)y, h.ip])y, 

How hajipy I ^;ll(luld be|" 

— Annie Douglas Robinson. 



I I.ippy the man, of mortals hap])ii'St 
lie, 

Wlio;;e (|uiet mind rrom vain <]esires is 
free; 

Whom neither hope;; deceive Mor fears 
torment. 

Hut lives in jjcaee, williiu hiinr.elf con- 
tent; 

In thouglit, or act, accountable to notut 

Hut t(^ himself, and unto Ood alone. 
— Henry P. P. Lansdowne. 



103 



I04 



CONTENTMENT 



CONTEND I LIVii: 

My mind to me a. kinj:;doni is; 

Sucli jicrfcct joy Ihonin 1 iiml 
As far exceeds all eartlily bliss 

That (lod or nature hath assigned: 
Though much I want that most woukl 

have, 
Yet still my mind forbids to crave. 

Content I live; this is my stay— - 
1 seek no more than may su^T^e. 

I press to bear no haughty sway; 
Look, what I laek my mind supplies. 

Lo, thus i triumph like a king. 

Content with what my mind doth bring. 

1 laugh not at another's loss, 
1 grudge not at another's gain; 

No worldly wave my mind can toss; 
I brook that as another's bane. 

I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend. 

I loathe not life, nor dread mine end. 

My wealth is health and oerfeet ease; 
My ei>nscience elear my eliief defense; 
1 never seek by l)ril)es to please 
Nor by desert to give oflense. 
Thus do I live, thus will 1 die; 
Would all did so, as well as I. 

— Edward Dyer. 
Alt. by William Byrd (1540-1625). 



JUST AS GOD LICADS 

Just as (^lod lea<ls me I would go; 

1 would not ask to choose my way; 
Content with what he will bestow, 

Assured he will not let me stray. 
So, as he leads, my ])ath I make, 
And step by sleji I gladly take — 

A child, in him confiding. 

Just as God leads I am content; 

I rest me calmly in his hands; 
That which he has decrei-d and sent — 

That which his will for me com- 
mands — 
I would that he should all fuliill, 
That I should do his gracious will 

In living or in dying. 

Just as God leads, I all resign; 

I trust me to my Father's will; 
Whi-n reason's rays deceptive shine, 

I I is counsel would I yet fuHill; 
That which his lo\e ordained as right 
Before he brought me to the right 

My all to him resigning. 



Just as God leads me, I abide 

In f;iith, in ho])e, in suffering true; 

His strength is ever by my side — 
Can aught my hold on nim mulo? 

I hold me lirm in j)atience, knowing 

That God my life is still bestowing — 
The best in kindness sending. 

Just as God U>ads I onward go. 

Out amid thorns and brit'rs keen; 

God does not yet his guidance show- 
Hut in the i-nd it shall be seen. 

How, by a loving l<\ither's will, 

[''aithful and true, he leads me still. 
And so my heart is resting. 

— From the German. 



SWEET CONTENT 

Thou, by long expericTice tried. 
Near whom no grief can long abide; 
My Lord, how lull of sweet content 

1 pass my years of banishment I 

All scenes alike engaging prove 
To souls imi)re.ssi'd with sacred love! 
Where'er they dwell they dwell in Thee 
In heaven, in earth, or on the sea. 

To me remains nor i)lace nor time, 
My country is in every clime; 
I can be calm and free from care 
On any shore, since (^lod is there. 

While placi' we seek, or ])lace we slum, 
The soul finds happiness in none; 
But with a God to guide our way 
'Tis ecpial joy to go or stay. 

Could I be cast where Thou art not, 
Tliat were indeed a dreadfid lot; 
But regions none remote 1 call. 
Secure of finding God in all. 

— Madame (^luyon. 



CONTENT AND RICH 

My conscience is my crown, 
Contented thoughts my rest; 

My heart is happy in itself, 
My bliss is in my breast. 

]!)nough I reckon wealth; 

A mean, the surest lot; 
That lies too high for base contemjit. 

Too low for envy's shot. 

My wishes are but few. 

All easy to fuliill; 
I make the limits of my power 

'i'he bounds unto my will. 



contentmp:nt 



105 



I feci no care of coin ; 

Well doing is my wealth; 
My mind to me an empire is, 

While grace affordeth healtli. 

I clip high-climbing thoughts, 
The wings of swelling ])ride; 

Their fall is worst that from the height 
Of greatest honor slide. 

Since sails of largest size 

The storm doth sooiu-st tear, 

I bear so low and small a sail 
As freeth me from fear. 

I wrestle not with rage 

While fury's llame doth burn; 

It is in vain to stop the stream 
Until the tide doth turn. 

But when the flame is out. 
And ebbing wrath doth end, 

I turn a late enrag(^d foe 
Into a quiet frii-nd. 

And, taught with often proof, 

A tempered calm I find 
To be most solace to itself, 

Best cure for angry mind. 

No change of fortune's calms 
Can cast my comforts down; 

When Fortune smiles I smile to think 
How quickly she will fi'own. 

And when in froward mood 

She proves an angry foe, 
Small gain I fotmd to let her come, 

Less loss to let her go. 

— Robert Southwell, 1561-95. 
(One of the Jesuit Fathers who were 

cruelly executed by Queen Elizabeth.) 



Don't lose Courage! Spirit brave 
Carry with you to the grave. 

Don't lose Time in vain distress! 
Work, not worry, brings success. 

Don't lo.se IIoju'! who lets her .stray 
Goes forlornly ail the way. 

Don't lose Patience, come what will! 
Patience ofttimes outruns skill. 

Don't lose Gladness! every hour 
Blooms for you some happy flower. 

Though be foiled your dearest plan, 
Don't lose Faith m God and man ! 



A CONTRAST 

Two men toiled side by side from sun 
to sun. 
And both were poor; 
Both sat with children, when the day 
was done, 
About their door. 
One saw tlu> beautiful in crimson cloud 

And shining luoon; 
'i'lie otlicr, with his head in sadness 
bowed, 
Made niglit of noon. 
One loved each tree and flower and sing- 
ing bird. 
On mount or plain; 
No ninsie in the .soul of one was stirred 

By leaf or rain. 
Oiu- saw tli(> good in evi-ry fellow-man 

Ami hoped the lu'St; 
The othiT marvelled at his Master's 
plan. 
And doubt, confessed. 
One, having heaven above and heaven 
below. 
Was satisfied ; 
The other, discontented, lived in woe, 
And hopeless died. 

— Sarah Knowles Bolton. 



WHO BIDES HIS TIME 

Who bides his time, and day by day 

l<\'ices defeat full palii-ntly, 
And lifts a tnirtliful roundelay 

llowt'ver ])oor his fortunes be — 
He will not fail in any qualm 

Of i)overty; the paltry dime — 
It will grow golden in his palm 

Who bides his time. 

Who bides his time — he tastes the sweet 

Of honey in the saltest tear; 
And though he fares witli .slowest feet 

Joy runs to meet him drawing near; 
'I'he I)irds are heralds of his cau.se. 

And lilvc a never-ending rhyme 
The roadsides bloom in his a])plause 

Who bides his time. 

Who bides his time, and fevers not 

In a hot race that, none achieves, 
Shall wear cool wreathen laurel, wrought 

With crimson berries in the leaves; 
And he shall reign a goodly king 

And sway his hand o'er every clime, 
With ])eace writ on his signet nng, 

Who bides his time. 

— James Whitcomb Kiley. 



io6 



CONTICNTMICNT 



CAKICLliSS CONTJ2NT 

I utn conUMil; I do not. curr; 

Wug iiM it will the world for inc; 
When l^'uss mid I''r«'l. was all my litre 

1(, euL no ground, iis 1 ronl<l s<c. 
So vvncu iiwiiy my fining wnil 
I »•( milled (.'oHl iiiid wiis coiiU'iil.. 

With more of Uiuid<s luid K-SKof Ihoiij-lil 
I slrivt! l<) iiiMkti my mid tors mci I ; 

'Ik S(>i>U. wluil aiu-ifiit. t^ai^ra kou};1iI, 
I'hysic mid food in sour mid swccl. 

To lake what passes in ^ood part, 

And kcf]) tlu' liiiiups from the heart. 

With ^'ood and j;eiitle-hmiiored hearts 
I choose to ehat, wheu<''er I loiiie, 

Whalc'er the sulii<tt. he that, .sl.drls; 
Mut if I yrl amoiiK the k'"'" 

I hold my tiMi>;ue, to li-ll the truth. 

And ketj) my breath to cool my broth. 

i''or ehauee or <liaiij;e of jieaee or pain, 
h'or fortune's hivor or her frown; 

|'\)r luek or ^U\\, for loss or Hiuu, 
I iii'ver dodj;e, nor up nor down: 

Hut swiiij; what way the ship shall swim, 

Or lat-k about, with etpial ti im. 

1 saiit not. where I shall not speed, 
Nor tniee the turn of every tide; 

If siuipK" sense will not siu-eei'd, 
I make no bustliuj;, but abide; 

h'or shilling w«'allh, or seoriii)^' wor, 

I force no friend, I fear no foe. 

1 love my neiehbor a;; myself; 

Myself like iiim too, by hi« leave; 
Nor to his pleasure, power, or |K'lf 

("aine ( to crouch, as 1 conceive; 
Dame Nature doubtless has desij-iied 
A man the monarch of his mind. 

Now laslc mid try this Icinper, sirs; 

Mood it. and brood it in your breast ; 
Or if ye ween, for worldly stirs, 

'riiat man (loi'S ri>,;ht to mar his rest, 
bet me be left, and debonair; 
I am content ; 1 do not. can*. 

— John Hyroin (i()i)3-ij(y\). 



Some of your hurls yt>ti have cure<l, 
And the sharpest, you still have sur- 
vived. 
Mill what torments of j;:rief you endured 
I'^rom the <'vils which never arrived. 
— Ralph Waldo liincison. 



IIAl'PY ANY WAY 

Lord, it. beloiij.;s not t(.> my caro 

Whether I die or live; 
to love and serve thee is my share, 

And this thy ^'rac(^ must, ^i'^vc. 

l( lilr be Ion,;. 1 will !..• j;la«l 

'l"li;il 1 may Ion,; obey ; 
If short, yet. why should 1 be sad 

'To soar l.o I'lidle.ss ilayi* 

Christ, leads me lhidu,;li no darker 
rooms 

Thau he went. thiou,;h before; 
lie thai into (lod's kiii,.;dom comcS 

Must, cuter by his door. 

("ome, bold, wlieii j;raee hath inadi! mc 
meel 

Thv blessed faci" lo sei'; 
l''or, if thy work on «'arlh be sweet, 

What, will Ihy y\nyy be? 

Then 1 shall end my sad complaints, 

And weary, sinful days, 
And join with the triumplianl .■;aint,s 

Who siii^ jeliovah'.s piaise. 

My kuowledy^e of that life is;. mall; 

The eyt> of faith is dim ; 
Ihit 'tis'enou,;li that Cliiisl knows all. 

And I shall be with him. 

— Richard Uaxler. 



An 
To 
Vnv 
l''or 

hut 



TIIIC TlIlNtJS 1 MISS 

easy tliiii},', () I'ower Diviiu', 
tliaiik tlie<' for these j;ifts of fliincl 
smnint-r's simshiue, winter's siiow, 
hcurfs that kindle. lliou,;lits that. 
>.;low; 
. when shall I attain to this: 
thank thct> for the thing's I tniss? 

all younj; fancy's early ).jU'ains, 
dreamed-of joys that, still an^ 

dreams. 

)es unfullilled, and pleasures known 
■oiij^li other;;' fortunes, not niy own, 
1 ble.ssiny.is seen that are not ^.jiveii, 
I ne'er will lu', this side of heaven. 



l''or 
The 

llo| 
Tin 
Am 
Am 

Had I. loo, shared the joys I see, 
Would then> have been a heaven for nie? 
Could 1 have felt thy pres<>nce near 
Had 1 possi'ssed what I held dear? 
My deepest fortune. hi,;liest bliss, 
Have j;rown, p(>rcliance, from thin,;s I 
miss. 



CONTENTMENT 



107 



Sometimes there comes an hour of culm ; 
(Irief turns to blessinjf, pain to halm; 
A Power that works above my will 
Still leads me onward, upward still; 
And then my heart attains to this: 
To thank thee, for the thin;^'s 1 miss. 
— Thomas Wentworth lligginson. 



THE HERITACIIC 

The rich man's son inherits lands, 
And i)iles of brick and stoni; and ^(old, 

And ho inherits soft, white hands, 
And tender llesh that fears the e.old. 
Nor d.'ires to wear u i^jarnuuit old; 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

One scarce would wish to hold in fee. 

The rich man's son inherits cares; 
The bank may break, the factory 
burn, 
A breath may burst his bubble shares, 
And soft white hands could hardly 

earn 
A living that woulil serve his turn; 
A heritage, it seems to me. 
One scarce would wish to hold in fee. 

The rich man's son inherits wants. 
His stomach cravts for dainty fare; 

With sated heart he hears the |)ants 
Of toiling hinds with brown arms bare. 
And wearies in his c^asy-chair; 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

One scarce would wish to hold in fee. 

What doth the poor man's son inherit? 
Stout muscles and a sinewy heart; 

A hardy frame, a iiardier sjju-it. 

King of two hands, he does his part 
In every u.seful toil and art; 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

A king might wish to hold in fee. 

What doth the poor man's sf)n inherit? 

Wishes o'erjoyed with hinnble things, 
A rank adju<lg('d by toil-won merit, 

Content that from employment 
springs, 

A heart that in his labor sings; 
A heritage, it seems to mc;, 
A king might wish to hold in fee. 

What doth the poor man's son inherit? 
A patience learned of being poor, 

Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it, 
A fellow-feeling that is sure 
To make the outcast bless his door; 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

A king might wish to hold in fee. 



O rich man's son! there is a toil 
That with all others level stands; 

Large charity doth never soil. 

Hut only wiiiten soft, white luinds; 
This is the best crop from thy lands, 

A lu'ritage, it! seems to me, 

Worth being rich to hold in fee. 

O poor man's soul scorn not thy state; 
There is worse weariness than thine 

In merely being rich and great; 
Toil only gives the soul to shine. 
And mak«!S rest fragrant and benign; 

A hent,ag<!, it seems to me. 

Worth lu'ing poor to hold in fee. 

Hoth, heirs to some six feet of sod, 
Are e(|ual in the earth at last; 

Both, children of the same dear (lod. 
Prove title to yojir heirship vast 
By reccjrd of a well-(illed past; 

A heritage, it seems to me. 

Well worth a life to hold in fee. 

— ^James Russell Lowell. 



I AM conti-:nt 

1 am content. In truni[)et tones 

My song l(^t ju'ople know; 
And many a nnghty man with thrones 

And scc^pter is n<jt so. 
And if he is I jf)yful cry. 
Why, then he's just the same as I. 

My motto is — Content with this; 

Oold — place — I jjrize not such. 
That which I have my measure is: 

Wise men desire n»jt much. 
Men wish and wish, and have their will. 
And wish again as hungry still. 

And gold and honor are besides 

A very brittle glass; 
And time, in his imresting tides 

Makes all things change and pass: 
Turns riches to a beggar's dole; 
Sets glory's race an infant's goal. 

Be noble — that is more than wealth; 

Do right — that's more than place; 
Then in the spirit then* is health 

And gladness in the face: 
Then thou art with thyself at one 
And, no man hating, fearest none. 

— George Macdonald. 



io8 



CONTENTMENT 



MADAME LOFTY 



Mrs. 



Lofty keeps a carriage, 

So do I; 
She has dappled grays to draw it, 

None have L 
She's no prouder of her coachman 

Than am I 
With my blue-eyed laughing baby 

Trundling by. 
I hide his face, lest she should see 
The cherub boy and envy me. 

Her fine husband has white fingers, 

Mine has not; 
He can give his bride a palace, 

Mine a cot. 
Hers comes home beneath the starlight. 

Ne'er cares she; 
Mine comes in the purple twilight. 

Kisses me, 
And prays that He who turns life's sands 
Will hold his loved ones in his hands. 



Mrs. Lofty has her jewels. 

So have I; 
She wears hers upon her bosom, 

Inside I. 
She will leave hers at Death's portals, 

By and by; 
I shall bear the treasures with me 

When I die — 
For I have love, and she has gold; 
She counts her wealth, mine can't be 
told. 



She has those who love her station. 

None have I, 
But I've one true heart beside me; 

Glad am I; 
I'd not change it for a kingdom, 

No, not I; 
God will weigh it in a balance, 

By and by; 
And then the difference he'll define 
'Twixt Mrs. Lofty's wealth and mine*, 



So long as life's hope-sparkle glows, 'tis 

good; 
When death delivers from life's woes, 

'tis good. 
Oh praise the Lord who makes all good, 

and will; 
Whether he life or death bestows, 'tis 

good. 



THE WIND THAT BLOWS, THAT 
WIND IS BEST 

Whichever way the wind doth blow. 
Some heart is glad to have it so; 
Then blow it east or blow it west. 
The wind that blows, that wind is best. 

My little craft sails not alone; 
A thousand fleet from every zone 
Are out upon a thousand seas; 
And what for me were favoring breeze 
Might dash another with the shock 
Of doom upon some hidden rock. 
And so I do not dare to pray 
For winds to waft me on my way; 
But leave it to a Higher Will 
To stay or speed me, trusting still 
That ill is well, and sure that He 
Who launched my bark will sail with me 
Throvigh storm and calm, and will not 

fail, 
Whatever breezes may prevail. 
To land me, every peril past. 
Within his sheltering heaven at last. 

Then, whatsoever wind doth blow. 
My heart is glad to have it so; 
And, blow it east or blow it west. 
The wind that blows, that wind is best. 
— Caroline Atherton Mason. 



THE DIFFERENCE 

Some murmur, when their sky is clear 

And wholly bright to view. 
If one small speck of dark appear 

In their great heaven of blue. 
And some with thankful love are filled 

If but one streak of light. 
One ray of God's good mercy, gild 

The darkness of their night. 

In palaces are hearts that ask. 

In discontent and pride. 
Why life is such a dreary task 

And all things good denied. 
Yet hearts in poorest huts admire 

How love has in their aid 
(Love that not ever seems to tire) 

Such rich provision made. 

— Richard Chenevix Trench. 



Give what Thou canst; without thee we 

are poor; 
And with thee rich, take what thou wilt 

away. — William Cowper. 



CONTENTMENT 



109 



RICHES AND POWER 

Cleon has a million acres, 

Ne'er a one have I; 
Cleon dwelleth in a palace, 

In a cottage I. 
Cleon hath a dozen fortunes, 

Not a penny I; 
Yet the poorer of the twain is 

Cleon, and not I. 



Cleon, true, possesseth acres. 

But the landscape I; 
Half the charms to me it yieldeth, 

Money cannot buy. 
Cleon harbors sloth and dullness, 

Freshening vigor I; 
He in velvet, I in fustian. 

Richer man am I. 

Cleon is a slave to grandeur, 

Free as thought am I; 
Cleon fees a score of doctors, 

Need of none have I. 
Wealth-surrounded, care-environed, 

Cleon fears to die. 
Death may come, he'll find me ready. 

Happier man am I. 

Cleon sees no charm in nature, 

In a daisy I; 
Cleon hears no anthem ringing 

In the sea and sky; 
Nature sings to me forever, 

Earnest listener I! 
State for state, with all attendants. 

Who would change? Not I. 

— Charles Mackay. 



ENOUGH 



I am so weak, dear Lord, I cannot stand 

One moment without thee ; 
But oh, the tenderness of thine enfold- 
ing, 
And oh, the faithfulness of thine up- 
holding, 
And oh, the strength of thy right hand! 
That strength is enough for me. 

I am so needy, Lord, and yet I know 

All fullness dwells in thee; 
And hour by hour that never-failing 

treasure 
Supplies and fills in overflowing measure. 
My last, my greatest need. And so 

Thy grace is enough for me. 



It is so sweet to trust thv word alone! 

I do not ask to see 
The unveiling of thy purpose, or the 

shining 
Of future light or mysteries im twining; 
The promise-roll is all my own. 

Thy word is enough for me. 

The human heart asks love. But now 
I know 
That my heart hath from Thee 
All real, and full, and marvelous affec- 
tion 
So near, so human ! yet Divine perfection 
Thrills gloriously the mighty glow I 
T/ijf love is enough for me. 

There were strange soul depths, restless, 
vast and broad 
Unfathomed as the sea. 
An infinite craving for some infinite 

stilling; 
But now Thy perfect love is perfect 

filling! 
Lord Jesus Christ, my Lord, my God, 
Thou, thou art enough for me! 

— Frances Ridley Havergal. 



FULLY CONTENT 

I know not, and I would not know, 
Content, I leave it all with Thee; 

'Tis ever best it should be so; 
As thou wilt have it let it be. 

But this I know: that every day 
And every step for me is planned; 

I surely cannot lose the Way 

While He is holding fast my hand. 

And surely, whatsoe'er betide, 
I never shall be left alone: 

Thou standest ever by my side; 
To thee my future all is known. 

And wheresoe'er my lot may fall 
The way before is marked by Thee; 

The windings of my life are all 
Unfoldings of thy Love to me. 



What matter will it be, O mortal man, 

when thou art dying. 
Whether upon a throne or on the bare 

earth thou art lying? 

— From the Persian. 



CONTENTMENT 



CONTENT WITH ALL 

Content that God's decree 

Should order all for thee. 

Content with sickness or with health — 

Content with poverty or wealth — 

Content to walk in humble guise, 

And as He wills it sink or rise. 

Content to live alone 
And call no place thine own. 
No sweet reunions day by day. 
'IMiy kindred spirits fur away. 
And, since God wills to have it so, 
Thou wouldst not change for weal or 
woe. 

Content that others rise 

Before thy very eyes. 

How bright their lot and portion here! 

Wealth iills their coffers — friends are 

near. 
Behold their mansions tall and fair! 
The timbrel and the dance are there. 

Content to toil or rest — 

God's peace within thy breast — 

To feel thy times are in His hand 

Who holds all worlds in his command — 

Thy time to laugh — thy time to sigh — 

Thy time to live — thy time to die. 

And is it so indeed 
Thou art with God agreed? 
Content 'mid all the ills of life? 
Farewell, then, sorrow, pain and strife! 
Such high content ir. heaven begmi. 
The battle's fought, the victory won! 
— Mary Ann W. Cook. 



A BLESSED LESSON 

Have I learned, in whatsoever 

State to be content? 
Have I learned this blessed lesson 

By my Master sent — 
And with joyous aeqviiescence 

Do I greet His will 
Even when my own is thwarted 

And my hands lie still? 

Surely it is best and sweetest 

Thus to have Him choOvSe, 
Even though some work I've taken 

By this choice I lose. 
Folded hands need not be idle — 

Fold them but in prayer; 
Other souls may toil far better 

For God's answer there. 



They that " reap " receive their "wages," 

Those who work" their "crown," 
Those who pray throughout the ages 

Bring blest answers down; 
In "whatever state" abiding 

Till the Master call, 
They at eventide will find Him 

Glorified in all. 

What though I can do so little 

For my Lord and King, 
At His feet 1 sit and listen. 

At His feet I sing. 
And, whatever my condition. 

All in love is meant; 
Sing, my soul, thy recognition, 

Sing, and be content! 



IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN 

Led by kindlier hand than ours, 
We journey through this earthly scene. 
And should not, in our weary hours, 
Turn to regret what might have been. 

And yet these hearts, when torn by pain. 
Or wrung by disappointment keen, 

Will seek relief from present cares 
In thcnights of joys that might have 
been. 

But let us still these wishes vain; 

We know not that of which we dream. 
Our lives might have been sadder yet 

God only knows what might have 
been. 

Forgive us. Lord, our little faith; 

And help us all, from morn to e'en. 
Still to believe that lot were best 

Which is — not that which might have 
been. 

And grant we may so pass the days 
The cradle and the grave between, 

That death's dark hour not darker be 
For thoughts of what life might have 
been. — George Z. Gray. 



Hushing every muttered murmur. 
Let your fortitude the firmer 

Gird your soul with strength. 
While, no treason near her lurking. 
Patience in her perfect working. 

Shall be Queen at length. 



CONTENTMENT 



BE CONTENT 

Be thou content; be still before 

His face at whose right hand df)th 
reign 
Fullness of joy for evermore, 

Without whom all thy toil is vain; 
He is thy living spring, thy sun, whose 

rays 
Make glad with life and light thy dreary 
days. 
Be thou content. 

In him is comfort, light, and grace. 
And changeless love beyond our 
thought ; 
The sorest pang, the worst disgrace. 
If he is there, shall harm thee not. 
He can lift off thy cross and loose thy 

bands, 
And calm thy fears; nay, death is in His 
hands. 
Be thou content. 

Or art thou friendless and alone — 
Hast none in whom thou canst con- 
lide? 
God careth for thee, lonely one — 

Comfort and help he will provide. 
He sees thy sorrows, and thy hidden 

grief, 
He knoweth when to send thcc quick 
relief; 
Be thou content. 

Thy heart's unspoken pain he knows, 

Thy secret sighs he hears full well; 
What to none else thou darest disclose; 
To him thou mayest with boldness 
tell, 
lie is not far away, but ever nigh, 
And answcreth willingly the poor man's 
cry: 
Be thou content. 



MANNA 



*Twas in the night the manna fell 
That fed the hosts of Israel. 

Enough for each day's fullest store 
And largest need; enough, no more. 

For willful waste, for prideful show, 
God sent not angels' food below. 

Still in our nights of deep distress 
The manna falls our heart to bless. 



And, famished, as we cry for bread. 
With heavenly food our lives are fed, 

And each day's need finds each day's 

store 
Enough. Dear Lord, what want we 

more I 
— Margaret IClizabeth Sangster. 



BLESSINGS NEAR AT HAND 

We look too far for blessings; 

We seek too far for joys; 
We ought to l)e like children 

Who lind their chiefest toys 

Ofttitnes in nearest attic, 

Or in some dingy lane — 
Their aprons fnll of weeds or flowers 

Gathered in sun or rain. 

Within the plainest cottage 
Unselfish love may grow; 

The sweetest, the divinest gift, 
Which niortals ever know. 

We ought to Cviunt our joys, not woes; 

Meet care with winsome grace; 
For discontent i)lows furrows 

Upon the l(jveliest face. 

Hope, freedom, sunlight, knowledge. 
Come not to wealth alone; 

He who looks far for blessings 
Will overlook his own. 

— Sarah Knowles Bolton. 



I WOULDN'T 



A sprig of mint by the wayward brook, 
A nibble of birch in the wo(3d, 

A summer day, and love, and a book. 
And I wouldn't be a king if I could, 
— John Vance Cheney. 



The way to make thy son rich is to fill 
His mind with rest before his trunk 

with riches: 
For wealth without contentment climbs 

a hill 
To feel those tempests which fly over 

ditches. — George Herbert. 



CONTENTMENT 



THE JEWEL 

There is a jewel which no Indian mine 
can bny, 
No eliemtc art can connterfeit; 
It makes men rich in j,M-ealest jioverty, 
Makes water wine, turns wooden cups io 

Tlie homely whistle to sweet music's 

strain ; 
Si'ldom it comes, to few from heavi-n 

sent, 
That much in little, all in naujjht — 

Content. 



FINDING CONTENT 

I could not hnd the little maid Content, 
So out I rusiied, aiul sou};ht her far 

and wide; 
But not wliere Pleasure each new 
fancy tried, 
Ileadinjj; the maze of riotinj:; merriment. 
Nor where, with restless eyes aiul bow 
half bent, 
Ltwe in the brake of sweetbriar 

smiled and sij;hed. 
Nor yet where I'^ime towered, 
crowned and },'lorilied, 
Foiuid I her face, nor wheresoe'er I went. 
So homeward back I crawled, like 
wounded bird, 
When lo! Content sate spinning at my 

door; 
And when I asked lur where she was 
bt>forc — 
"Here all the time," she said; "I never 
stirred; 
Too eaj^er in thy search, you passed 
me o'er. 
And, thouj^h I called you, neither saw 
nor heard." — Alfred Austin. 



/ 



DAILY STRENGTH 



Day by day the matma fell; 
C) to learn this lesson well; 
Still by constant mercy fed, 
Give me. Lord, my daily bread. 

"Day by day," the promise reads; 
Daily strenjijlh for daily needs; 
Cast foreboding fears away; 
Take the manna of to-day. 

Lord, my times are in thy hand. 

All my sanguine hopes have i)lanned 

To thy wisdom I resign. 

And would make thy purpose thine. 



Thou my daily task shalt give; 
Day by dav to Thee I live; 
So shall aifded years fulfill 
Not my own — my Father's will. 

Fond ambition, whisper not; 
Happy is my humble lot; 
Anxious, busy cares away; 
I'm provided for to-day. 

O to live exempt from care 
Hy the energy of prayer; 
Strong in faith, with mind subdued 
Yet elate with gratitude. 

— ^Josiah Conder. 



GOD IS ENOUGH 

CiO{\ is enough! thou, who in hope and 
fear 
Toilest through desert sands of life, 
sore tried. 
Climb, trustful, over death's black ridge, 
for near 
The bright wells sliine; thou wilt be 
satislied. 

(lod doth suflicel O thou, the patient 
one, 
Wlui puttest faith in him, and none 
beside. 
Hear yet thy load ; xuuler the setting sun 
The ^lad tents gleam; thou wilt be 
satisfied 

By God's gold Afternoon! peace ye shall 
have ; 
Man is in loss excejit he live aright. 
And help his fellow to be lirm and brave, 
l'\iithful and patient; then the restful 
night. 
— Edwin Arnold, from the Arabian. 



THE TRULY RICH 

They're richer who diminish their de- 
sires. 
Though their possessions be not am- 
plilied, 

Than monarchs, who in ow^iing large 
empires, 
Ha\e minds that never will be satis- 
tied. 

I-'or lie is poor who wants what he would 
have, 

And rich who, having naught, doth 
nothing crave. — T. Urchard. 



CONTENTMENT 



"3 



t^ THY ALLOTMENT 

Thou cam'st not to thy phice by acci- 
dent, 

It is the vory place God meant for thee; 

And shouldst thou there small scope for 
actit)n see 

IX) not for this yive room to discontent, 

Nor let the time thou owest (lod be 
S]x'nt 

In idle dreaming how thou mightest be. 

In what concerns thy sjiiritual life, more 
free 

From outward hindrance or impedi- 
ment. 

For presently this hindrance thou shalt 
find 

That without which all goodness were a 
task 

So slight that virtue never could grow 
strong; 

And wouldst thou do one tUity to His 
mind — 

The Imjjoser's — over-burdened thou 
shalt ask. 

And own thy need of, grace to help vw 
long. 

— Richard Chenevix Treneh. 



THE HAPPIEST HEART 

Who drives the horses of the sun 

Shall lord it but a day; 
Better the lowly deed were done, 

And kept the humble way. 

The rust will find the sword of fame. 
The dust will hide the crown ; 

Aye, none shall nail so high his name 
Time will not tear it down. 

The happiest heart that ever beat 

Was in some (piiet breast 
That found the eonunon daylight sweet, 

And left to Heaven the n-st. 

— John Vance Cheney. 



WELCOME THIC SHADOWS 

Welcome the shadows; where they 
blackest are 
Burns through the bright supernal 
hour; 
From blindness of wide dark looks out 
the star, 
From all death's night the April 
flower. 



For beauty and for gladness of the days 
Bring but the meed of trust; 

The April grass looks up from barren 
ways, 
The daisy from the dust. 

When of this flurry thou shalt have thy 
fill, 
The thing thou seekest, it will seek 
thee then: 
The heavens repeat themselves in waters 
still 
And in the faces of contenti'd nu-n. 
— ^John Vance Cheney. 



THE DAILY COURSE 

Ni'W every morning is the love 
Oiu" wakening and uprising prove; 
'I'hrough sleep and darkness safely 

brought. 
Restored to life, and power, and thought. 

New mercies each returning day 
Hover around us while we i)ray; 
Ni'W jH-rils i)ast, new sins forgiven. 
New tlioughts of God, new hopes of 
heaven. 

If on our daily course our mind 
Be set to hallow all we find. 
New treasures still, of countless ])rice, 
God will providi' for sacrifice. 

Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be 
As more of heaven in each we see; 
Some softening gleam of love and 

])rayer 
Shall dawn on every cross and care. 

We need not bid, for cloistered cell, 
Our neighbor and our work farewell. 
Nor strive to wind ourselves too high 
••"or sinful man beneath the sky. 

The trivial round, the common task, 
Will furnish all we ought to ask: 
Room to deny ourselves a road 
To bring us (laily nearer (iod. 

Seek we no more; content with these. 
Let j)resent ra])ture, comfort, ease, 
As I leaven shall bid tliem, come and go; 
The secret, this, of rest below. 

Only, O Lord, in thy dear love 
•'""it us for j)erfect rest above; 
And hel]) us this and every day. 
To live more nearly as we ])ray. 

— John Keble. 



114 



CONTENTMENT 



GOD ENOUGH 

Let nothing disturb thee, 

Nothing affright thee; 

All things are passing; 

God never changeth; 

Patient endurance 

Attaineth to all things; 

Who God possesseth 

In nothing is wanting; 

Alone God suftlceth. 
-St. Teresa, tr. by Henry Wadsworth 
Longfellow. 



THE GOLDEN MEAN 

He that holds fast the golden mean 
And lives contentedly between 

The little and the great, 
Feels not the wants that pinch the poor, 
Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's 
door. 

Embittering all his state. 



WITHOUT AND WITHIN 

If every man's internal care 

Were written on his brow. 
How many would our pity share 

Who raise otir envy now? 

The fatal secret, when revealed, 

Of every aching breast, 
Would prove that only while concealed 

Their lot appeared the best. 

— Pietro Metastasio. 



Let us be content in work 
To do the thing we can, and not pre- 
sume 
To fret because it's little. 

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



If none were sick and none were sad, 
■ What service coiild we render? 
I think if we were always glad. 

We scarcely could be tender. 
If sorrow never claimed our heart. 

And every wish were granted, 
Patience would die and hope depart — 

Life would be disenchanted. 



A pilgrim, bound to Mecca, quite away 

his sandals wore. 
And on the desert's blistering sand his 

feet grew very sore. 
"To let mc suffer thus, great Allah, is 

not kind nor just. 
While in thine service I confront the 

painful heat and dust." 
He murmured in complaining tone ; and 

in this temper came 
To where, aroimd the Kaaba, pilgrims 

knelt of every name; 
And there he saw, while pity and re- 
morse his bosom beat, 
A pilgrim who not only wanted shoes, 

but feet. 
— From the Persian, tr. by William 
Rounseville Alger. 



Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; 
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; 
Thy fate is the common fate of all. 
Into each life some rain must fall, '■/ 
Some days must be dark and dreary. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



Strength for to-day is all that we 

need. 

As there never will be a to-morrow; 

For to-morrow will prove but another 

to-day 

With its measure of joy or of sorrow. 



Don't think your lot the worst because 
Some griefs your joy assail; 

There aren't so very many saws ^ 

That never strike a nail. 

— Nixon Waterman. 



When it drizzles and drizzles, 

If we cheerfully smile. 
We can make the weather, 
By working together. 

As fair as we choose in a little while. 
For who will notice that clouds are drear 
If pleasant faces are always near. 
And who will remember that skies are 

gray 
If he carries a happy heart all day? 



ASPIRATION 



DESIRE, SUPPLICATION, GROWTH 



GRADATIM 



Heaven is not reached by a single bound ; 
But we build the ladder by which we rise 
From the lowly earth to the vaulted 

skies, 
And we mount to its summit round by 

round. 

I coimt this thing to be grandly true : 
That the noble deed is a step toward 

God, 
Lifting the soul from the common clod 
To a purer air and a broader view. 



We rise by the things that are tmder 

feet; 
By what we have mastered of good and 

gain. 
By the pride deposed and the passion 

slain, 
And the vanquished ills that we hourly 

meet. 

We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust. 
When the morning calls us to life and 

light; 
But our hearts grow weary, and ere the 

night 
Our lives are treading the sordid dust. 



We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray, 
And we think that we mount the air on 

wings. 
Beyond the recall of sensual things, 
While our feet still cling to the heavy 

clay. 



Wings for the angels, but feet for 

men! 
We may borrow the wings to find the 

way; 
We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, 



and pray; 
But our feet must rise, or we fall again. 



Only in dreams is a ladder thrown 
From the weary earth to the sapphire 

walls. 
But the dreams depart, and the vision 

falls. 
And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of 

stone. 

Heaven is not reached at a single bound ; 
But we build the ladder by which we 

rise 
From the lowly earth to the vaulted 

skies. 
And we mount to its summit round by 

round. 

— ^Josiah Gilbert Holland. 



MORE AND MORE 

Purer yet and purer 

I would be in mind. 
Dearer yet and dearer 

Every duty find; 
Hoping still and trusting 

God without a fear, 
Patiently believing 

He will make it clear. 

Calmer yet and calmer 

Trials bear and pain, 
SiU"er yet and surer 

Peace at last to gain; 
Suffering still and doing, 

To his will resigned, 
And to God subduing 

Heart and will and mind. 

Higher yet and higher 

Out of clouds and night, 
Nearer yet and nearer 

Rising to the light — 
Light serene and holy — 

Where my soul may rest, 
Purified and lowly. 

Sanctified and blest. 

— Johann W. von Goethe. 



"S 



ii6 



ASPIRATION 



THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS 

This is the ship of pearl which, poets 
feign, 

Sails the unshadowed main, — 
The venturous bark that flings 
On the sweet summer wind its purpled 

wings 
In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings 

And coral reefs lie bare, 
Where the cold sea maids rise to sun 
their streaming hair. 

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; 
Wrecked is the ship of pearl! 
And every chambered cell. 
Where its dim dreaming life was wont 

to dwell, 
As the frail tenant shaped his growing 
shell. 

Before thee lies revealed — 
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt 
unsealed. 

Year after year beheld the silent toil 
That spread his lustrous coil; 
Still, as the spiral grew. 
He left the last year's dwelling for the 

new. 
Stole with soft step its shining archway 
through. 

Built t:p its idle door. 
Stretched in its last-fotmd home, and 
knew the old no more. 



Thanks for the heavenly message 
brought by thee. 

Child of the wandering sea, 
Cast from her lap, forlorn I 
From thy dead lips a clearer note is bom 
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed 
horn; 

While on my ear it rings. 
Through the deep caves of thought I 
hear a voice that sings: 

Build thee more stately mansions, O my 
soul! 

As the swift seasons roll! 
Leave thy low- vaulted past! 
Let each new temple, nobler than the 

last, 
Shut thee from heaven with a dome 
more vast 

Till thou at length art free. 
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's 
unresting sea! 

— Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



WALKING WITH JESUS 

My Saviour, on the Word of Truth 

In earnest hope I live, 
I ask for all the precious things 

Thy boundless love can give. 
I look for many a lesser light 

About my path to shine; 
But chiefly long to walk with thee, 

And only trust in thine. 

Thou knowest that I am not blest 

As Thou would 'st have me be 
Till all the peace and joy of faith 

Possess my soul in thee; 
And still I seek 'mid many fears, 

With yearnings unexpressed, 
The comfort of thy strengthening love, 

Thy soothing, settling rest. 

It is not as Thou wilt with me 

Till, humbled in the dust, 
I know no place in all my heart 

Wherein to put my trust: 
Until I find, O Lord! in thee — 

The lowly and the meek — 
That fullness which thy own redeemed 

Go nowhere else to seek. 

Then, O my Saviour! on my soul, 

Cast down but not dismayed. 
Still be thy chastening healing hand 

In tender mercy laid: 
And while I wait for all thy joys 

My yearning heart to fill. 
Teach me to walk and work with thee, 

And at thy feet sit still. 

— Anna Letitia Waring. 



A PRAYER TO THE GOD OF 

NATURE 

God of the roadside weed. 
Grant I may humbly serve the humblest 
need. 

God of the scarlet rose, 
Give me the beauty that Thy love be- 
stows. 

God of the hairy bee. 

Help me to suck deep joys from all I see. 

God of the spider's lace, 
Let me, from mine own heart, imwind 
such grace. 



ASPIRATION 



117 



God of the lily's cup, 

Fill me! I hold this empty chalice up. 

God of the sea-gull's wing, 
Bear me above each dark and turbulent 
thing. 

God of the watchful owl. 
Help me to see at midnight, like this 
fowl. 

God of the antelope. 
Teach me to scale the highest crags of 
Hope. 

God of the eagle's nest, 
Oh, let me make my eyrie near thy 
breast! 

God of the burrowing mole, 

Let cold earth have no terrors for my soul. 

God of the chrysalis. 
Grant that my grave may be a cell of 
bliss. 

God of the butterfly. 
Help me to vanquish Death, although 
I die. 
— Frederic Lawrence Knowles. 



O JESUS CHRIST, GROW THOU 
IN ME 

Jesus Christ, grow thou in me, 
And all things else recede! 

My heart be daily nearer thee, 
From sin be daily freed. 

Each day let Thy supporting might 
My weakness still embrace; 

My darkness vanish in thy light, 
Thy life my death efface. 

In thy bright beams which on me fall 
Fade every evil thought; 

That I am nothing, Thou art all, 
I would be daily taught. 

More of thy glory let me see. 
Thou holy, wise and true, 

1 would thy living image be, 
In joy and sorrow too. 

Fill me with gladness from above, 
Hold me by strength divine; 

Lord, let the glow of thy great love 
Through my whole being shine. 



Make this poor self grow less and less; 

Be Thou my life and aim; 
Oh, make me daily through thy grace 

More meet to bear thy name! 

Let faith in Thee and in thy might 

My every motive move; 
Be thou alone my soul's delight. 

My passion and my love. 

— Henry B. Smith, 



DAY BY DAY 

Looking upward every day. 

Sunshine on our faces, 
Pressing onward every day 

Toward the heavenly places; 
Growing every day in awe, 

For thy name is holy; 
Learning every day to love 

With a love more lowly. 

Walking every day more close 

To our Elder Brother; 
Growing every day more true 

Unto one another; 
Every day more gratefully 

Kindnesses receiving, 
Every day more readily 

Injuries forgiving. 

Leaving every day behind 

Something which might hinder; 

Running swifter every day. 
Growing purer, kinder — 

Lord, so pray we every day; 
Hear us in thy pity. 

That we enter in at last 
To the holy city. — Mary Butler. 



Better to have the poet's heart than 

brain, 
Feeling than song; but, better far than 

both. 
To be a song, a music of God's making. 
Or but a table on which God's finger of 

flame. 
In words harmonious of triumphant 

verse. 
That mingles joy and sorrow, sets down 

clear 
That out of darkness he hath called the 

light. 
It may be voice to such is after given 
To tell the mighty tale to other worlds. 
— George - Macdonald . 



ii8 



ASPIRATION 



FREE FROM SIN 

The bird let loose in eastern skies, 

When hastening fondly home, 
Ne'er stoops to earth hor wing, nor flies 

Where idle warblers roam; 
But high she shoots through air and light 

Above all low delay, 
Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, 

Nor shadow dims her way. 

So grant me, God, from every care 

And stain of passion free. 
Aloft, through Virtue's purer air. 

To hold my course to thee! 
No sin to cloud, no lure to stay 

My soul, as home she springs; 
Thy sunshine on her joyful way. 

Thy freedom in her wings! 

— Thomas Moore. 



A PRAYER 



O that mine eyes might closfid be 
To what concerns me not to see; 
That deafness might possess mine ear 
To what concerns me not to hear; 
That truth my tongue might always tie 
From ever speaking foolishly; 
That no vain thought might ever rest 
Or be conceived within my breast; 
That by each deed and word and thought 
Glory may to my God be brought. 
But what are wishes! Lord, mine eye 
On Thee is fixed; to Thee I cry! 
Wash, Lord, and purify my heart. 
And make it clean in every part; 
And when 'tis clean, Lord, keep it, too. 
For that is more than I can do. 

— Thomas Elwood, A.D. 1639. 



THE ALTERED MOTTO 

O the bitter shame and sorrow, 

That a time could ever be 
When I let the Saviour's pity 
Plead in vain, and proudly answered, 
"All of self, and none of Thee!" 



Yet He found me; I beheld him 
Bleeding on the accursed tree. 

Heard him pray, "Forgive them. 
Father!" 

And my wistful heart said faintly, 
"Some of self and some of Thee." 



Day by day his tender mercy. 

Healing, helping, full and free. 
Sweet and strong, and, ah! so patient, 
Brought me lower, while I whispered, 
"Less of self, and more of Thee." 

Higher than the highest heaven, 
Deeper than the deoi)ost sea. 

Lord, thy love at last hath conquered; 

(irant me now my supplication — 
"None of self, and all of Thee." 

— Theodore Monod. 



INDWELLING 

dwell in me, my Lord, 
That I in thee may dwell; 

Fulfill thy tender word, 

That thy evangels tell; 
In me Thou, I in thee. 
By thy sweet courtesy. 

But wilt thou my gu"st be. 
In this poor heart of mine? 

Thy guest? Is this for me 
In that i)ure heart of thine? 

In me thou, I in thee. 

By thy. sweet courtesy. 

My chamber. Lord, prepare 
Whither thou deignest come; 

1 may not seek to share 
The making of thy home; 

In me thou, I in thee, 
By thy sweet courtesy. 

Thy gracious gifts bestow, 

Humility and love; 
O cause my heart to glow 

By fire sent from above. 
In me thou, I in thee. 
By thy sweet courtesy. 

— Alexander B. Grosart. 



Thy name to me, thy nature grant; 

This, only this be given; 
Nothing besides my God I want, 

Nothing in earth or heaven. 

Come, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
And seal me thine abode; 

Let all I am in thee be lost. 
Let all I am be God. 

— Charles Wesley. 



ASPIRATION 



X19 



PERFECTION 

O how the thought of God attracts, 
And draws the heart from earth, 

And sickens it of passing shows 
And dissipating mirth! 

'Tis not enough to save our souls, 

To shun the eternal fires; 
The thought of God will rouse the heart 

To more sublime desires. 

God only is the creature's home. 
Though rough and strait the road; 

Yet nothing less can satisfy 
The love that longs for God. 

Oh, utter but the name of God 
Down in your heart of hearts. 

And see how from the world at once 
All tempting light departs. 

A trusting heart, a yearning eye 

Can win their way above; 
If mountains can be moved by faith 

Is there less power in love? 

How little of that road, my soul. 

How little hast thou gone! 
Take heart, and let the thovight of God 

Allure thee further on. 

Dole not thy duties out to God, 

But let thy hand be free; 
Look long at Jesus; his sweet blood — 

How was it dealt to thee? 

The perfect way is hard to flesh; 

It is not hard to love; 
If thou wert sick for want of God 

How swiftly wouldst thou move. 

Be docile to thine unseen Guide; 

Love him as he loves thee; 
Time and obedience are enough. 

And thou a saint shalt be. 

— Frederick William Faber. 



Thou broadenest out with every year 

Each breadth of life to meet; 
I scarce can think thou art the same. 

Thou art so much more sweet. 
With gentle swiftness lead me on. 

Dear God, to see thy face; 
And meanwhile in my narrow heart 

O make thyself more space! 

— Frederick William Faber. 



LONGING 

Of all the myriad moods of mind 

That through the soul come thronging, 
Which one was e'er so dear, so kind, 

So beautiful, as Longing? 
The thing we long for, that we are 

For one transcendent moment, 
Before the Present poor and bare 

Can make its sneering comment. 

Still, through our paltry stir and strife, 
Glows down the wished ideal. 

And longing molds in clay what life 
Carves on the marble real; 

To let the new life in, we know. 

Desire must ope the portal; 

Perhaps the longing to be so 
Helps make the soul immortal. 

Longing is God's fresh heavenward will 

With our poor earthward striving; 
We quench it that we may be still 

Content with merely living; 
Bvit, would we learn that heart's full 
scope 

Which we are hourly wronging. 
Our lives must climb from hope to hope. 

And realize our longing. 

Ah! let us hope that to our praise 

Good God not only reckons 
The moments when we tread his ways. 

But when the spirit beckons; 
That some slight good is also wrought, 

Beyond self-satisfaction, 
When we are simply good in thought 

Howe'er we fail in action. 

— James Russell Lowell. 



MORE HOLINESS 

More holiness give me; 

More strivings within. 
More patience in suffering, 

More sorrow for sin. 
More faith in my Saviour, 

More sense of his care, 
More joy in his service. 

More purpose in prayer. 

More gratitude give me. 

More trust in the Lord, 
More pride in his glory. 

More hope in his word. 
More tears for his sorrows, 

More pain at his grief. 
More meekness in trial, 

More praise for relief. 



ASPIRATION 



More purity give me, 

More strength to o'ercome, 
More freedom from earth-stains, 

More longings for home; 
More fit for the kingdom, 

More used I would be. 
More blessed and holy — 

More, Saviour, like thee. 

—Philip Paul Bliss. 



"MY SOUL DOTH MAGNIFY THE 
LORD" 

My soul shall be a telescope, 

Searching the distant bounds of time 
and space. 
That somehow I may image, as I grope, 

Jehovah's power and grace. 

My soul a microscope shall be, 
In all minutest providences keen 

Jehovah's patient thoughtfulness to see. 
And read his love between. 

My soul shall be a burning-glass 

That diligence to worship may suc- 
ceed. 
That I may catch God's glories as they 
pass. 
And focus to a deed. 

So, even so, 

A mote in his creation, even I 
Seeking alone to do, to feel, to know. 

The Lord must magnify. 

— Amos R. Wells. 



Lord, let me not be too content 
With life in trifling service spent — 

Make me aspire! 
When days with petty cares are filled 
Let me with fleeting thoughts be thrilled 

Of something higher! 

Help me to long for mental grace 
To struggle with the commonplace 

I daily find. 
May little deeds not bring to fruit 
A crop of little thought to suit 

A shriveled mind. 



I know this earth is not my sphere, 
For I cannot so narrow me but that 
I still exceed it. 

— Robert Browning. 



A SHRINKING PRAYER 

Give me, O Lord, a heart of grace, 
A voice of joy, a smiling face, 
That I may show, where'er I turn. 
Thy love within my soul doth burn! 

Then life be sweet, and joy be dear, 
Be in my mind a quiet fear; 
A patient love of pain and care, 
An enmity to dark despair. 

A tenderness for all that stray. 

With strength to help them on their 

way; 
A cheerfulness, a heavenly mirth, 
Brightening my steps along the earth. 



I ask and shrink, yet shrink and ask; 
I know thou wilt not set a task 
Too hard for hands that thou hast made. 
Too hard for hands that thou canst aid. 

So let me dwell all peacefully. 
Content to live, content to die; 
Rejoicing now, rejoicing then. 
Rejoicing evermore. Amen. 

— Rosa Mulholland. 



THAT I MAY SOAR 

Great God , I ask thee for no meaner pelf 
Than that I may not disappoint my- 
self; 
That in my action I may soar as high 
As I can now discern with this clear eye. 

And next in value which thy kindness 

lends. 
That I may greatly disappoint my 

friends, 
Howe'er they think or hope that it may 

be, 
They may not dream how thou'st dis- 

tingfuished me. 

That my weak hand may equal my firm 

faith. 
And my life practise more than my 

tongue saith; 
That my low conduct may not show, 

Nor my relenting lines, 
That I thy purpose did not know, 
Or overrated thy designs. 

— Henry David Thoreau. 



ASPIRATION 



121 



A CRY OF THE SOUL 

God of truth, for whom alone I sigh, 
Knit thou my heart by strong, sweet 

cords to thee. 

1 tire of hearing; books my patience try; 
Untired to thee I cry; 

Thyself my all shalt be. 

Lord, be thou near and cheer my lonely 
way; 
With thy sweet peace my aching 
bosom fill; 
Scatter my cares and fears; my griefs 

allay ; 
And be it mine each day 
To love and please thee still. 

My God! Thou hearest me; but clouds 
obscure 
Even yet thy perfect radiance, truth 
divine! 
O for the stainless skies, the splendors 

pure, 
The joys that aye endure. 

When thine own glories shine! 

— Pierre Corneille. 



A PURPOSE TRUE 

Lord, make me quick to see 
Each task awaiting mc. 

And quick to do; 
Oh, grant me strength, I pray, 
With lowly love each day 

And purpose true. 

To go as Jesus went, 
Spending and being spent, 

Myself forgot; 
Supplying human needs 
By loving words and deeds. 

Oh, happy lot! 

—Robert M. Offord. 



There are deep things of God. Push 

out from shore; 
Hast thou found much? Give thanks, 

and look for more. 
Dost fear the generous Giver to oflfend ? 
Then know his store of bounty hath no 

end. 
He doth not need to be implored or 

teased ; 
The more we take the better he is 

pleased. 

— Charles Gordon Ames. 



BREATHE ON ME • 

Breathe on me. Breath of God, 

Fill me with life anew. 
That I may love what thou dost love. 

And do what thou wouldst do. 

Breathe on mc. Breath of God, ^ 

Until my heart is pure. 
Until with thee I will one will, 

To do or to endure. 

Breathe on me. Breath of God, 

Till I am wholly thine; 
Till all this earthly part of me 

Glows with thy fire divine. 

Breathe on mc. Breath of God, 

So shall I never die. 
But live with thee the perfect life 

Of thine eternity. 

— Edwin Hatch. 



THE COMPARATIVE DEGREE 

What weight of woe we owe to thee, 

Accurst comparative degree! 

Thy paltry step can never give 

Access to the superlative; 

For he who would the wisest be. 

Strives to make others wise as he. 

And never yet was man judged best 

Who would be better than the rest; 

So docs comparison unkind 

Dwarf and debase the haughty mind. 

Make not a man your measuring-rod 
If you would span the way to God; 
Heed not our petty "worse" or "less,' 
But fix your eyes on perfectness. 
Make for the loftiest point in view. 
And draw your friends along with you. 
— Amos R. Wells. 



Thy nature be my law. 

Thy spotless sanctity, 
And sweetly every moment draw 

My happy soul to thee. 

Soul of my soul remain; 

Who didst for me fulfill. 
In me, O Lord, fulfill again 

Thy heavenly Father's will. 
— Charles Wesley. 



122 



ASPIRATION 



LEAD ON, O LORD 

Jesus still lead on 

Till our rest be won; 
And although the way be cheerless, 
We will follow, calm and fearless; 

Guide us by thy hand 

To our Fatherland. 

If the way be drear, 

If the foe be near, 
Let not faithless fears o'ertake us," 
Let not faith and hope forsake us; 

For, through many a foe 

To our home we go. 

When we seek relief 
From a long-felt grief: 
When oppressed by new temptations. 
Lord, increase and perfect patience; 
Show us that bright shore 
Where we weep no more. 

Jesus, still lead on 

Till our rest be won; 
Heavenly Leader, still direct us, 
Still support, control, protect us, 

Till we safely stand 

In our Fatherland. 

— Nicolaus Ludwig Zinzendorf. 



Give me this day 
A little work to occupy my mind; 
A little suffering to sanctify 
My spirit; and, dear Lord, if thou canst 

find 
Some little good that I may do for thee, 
I shall be glad, for that will comfort me. 
Mind, spirit, hand — I lift them all to 

thee. 



O make me patient, Lord, 

Patient in daily cares; 
Keep me from thoughtless words. 

That slip out unawares. 
And help me, Lord, I pray. 

Still nearer thee to live, 
And as I journey on. 

More of thy presence give. 



O square thyself for use. A stone that 

may 
Fit in the wall is not left in the way. 
— From the Persian. 



Think, and be careful what thou art 

within, 
For there is sin in the desire of sin : 
Think and be thankful in a different 

case ; 
For there is grace in the desire of grace. 
— George Gordon Byron. 



A man's higher being is knowing and 
seeing ; 
Not having or toiling for more; 
In the senses and soul is the joy of con- 
trol. 
Not in pride and luxurious store. 
—John Boyle O'Reilly. 



Be with me. Lord, where'er my path may 

lead; 
Fulfill thy word, supply my every need; 
Help me to live each day more close to 

thee. 
And O, dear Lord, I pray abide with me. 



In all I think or speak or do. 

Whatever way my steps are bent, 

God shape and keep me strong and true , 
Courageous, cheerful, and content. 
— W. D. Russell. 



Make my mortal dreams come true 
With the work I fain would do: 
Clothe with Viie the weak intent. 
Let me be the thing I meant. 

— ^John Greenleaf Whittier. 



This be my prayer, from dawn to eve, 
Working between the stms; 

Lord, make my arm as firm as a knight's 
My soul as white as a nun's. 



Every hour that fleets so slowly has its 

task to do or bear; 
Luminous the crown and holy, if we set 

each gem with care. 



O for a man to rise in me. 
That the man that I am 
May cease to be. 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



PRAYER 

WORSHIP, COMMUNION, DEVOTION 



THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER 

Father of all! in every age, 

In ev'ry clime adored, 
By saint, by savage, and by sage, 

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord! 

Thou great First Cause, least under- 
stood. 

Who all my sense confined 
To know but this, that thou art good. 

And that myself am blind: 

Yet gave me, in this dark estate, 

To see the good from ill; 
And binding nature fast in fate. 

Left free the human will. 

What conscience dictates to be done. 

Or warns me not to do, 
This, teach me more than hell to shun, 

That, more than heaven pursue. 

What blessings thy free bounty gives 

Let me not cast away; 
For God is paid when man receives — 

T' enjoy is to obeJ^ 

Yet not to earth's contracted span 
Thy goodness let me bound; 

Or think thee Lord alone of man 
When thousand worlds are round; 

Let not this weak, unknowing hand 
Presume thy bolts to throw. 

And deal damnation round the land 
On each I judge thy foe. 

If I am right, thy grace impart 

Still in the right to stay; 
If I am wrong, O teach my heart 

To find that better way. 

Save me alike from foolish pride 

Or impious discontent. 
At aught thy wisdom has denied 

Or aught thy wisdom lent. 



Teach me to feel another's woe; 

To hide the fault I see; 
That mercy I to others show, 

That mercy show to me. 

Mean though I am, not wholly so 
Since quicken'd by thy breath; 

O lead me wheresoe'er I go, 

Through this day's life or death. 

This day be bread and peace my lot : 

All else beneath the sim 
Thou know'st if best bestowed or not; 

And let thy will be done. 

To Thee, whose temple is all space. 
Whose altar earth, sea, skies! 

One chorus let all Being raise, 
All Nature's incense risef 

— Alexander Pope. 



THE HOUR OF PRAYER 

My God, is any hour so sweet. 

From blush of mom to evening star. 

As that which calls me to thy feet: 
The hour of prayer? 

Blest is that tranquil hour of mom, 
And blest that solemn hour of eve. 

When, on the wings of prayer upborne. 
The world I leave. 

Then is my strength by thee renewed ; 

Then are my sins by thee forgiven; 
Then dost thou cheer my solitude 

With hopes of heaven. 

No words can tell what sweet relief 
Here for my every want I find; 

What strength for warfare., balm for 
grief. 
What peace of mind. 

Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear; 

My spirit seems in heaven to stay; 
And e'en the penitential tear 

Is wiped away. 



123 



124 



PRAYER 



Lord, till I reach that blissful shore, 
No privilege so dear shall be 

As thus my inmost soul to pour 
In prayer to thee. 

— Charlotte Elliott. 



PETITION 



Be not afraid to pray — to pray is right. 
Pray, if thou canst, with hope; but 

ever pray, 
Though hope be weak or sick with 
long delay; 
Pray in the darkness if there be no light. 

Far is the time, remote from human 
sight. 
When war and discord on the earth 
shall cease; 
Yet every prayer for universal peace 
Avails the blessed time to expedite. 

Whate'er is good to wish, ask that of 

heaven, 
Though it be what thou canst not 

hope to see. 
Pray to be perfect, though material 

leaven 
Forbid the spirit so on earth to be; 
But if for any wish thou darcst not pray. 
Then pray to God to cast that wish 

away. — Hartley Coleridge. 



SOMETIME, SOMEWHERE 

Unanswered yet the prayer your lips 
have pleaded 
In agony of heart these many years? 

Does faith begin to fail? Is hope de- 
parting? 
And think you all in vain those falling 
tears? 

Say not the Father hath not heard your 
prayer ; 

You shall have your desire sometime, 
somewhere. 

Unanswered yet ?— though when you first 

presented 
This one petition at the Father's 

throne 
It seemed you could not wait the time 

of askmg. 
So urgent was your heart to make it 

known ! 
Though years have passed since then, 

do not despair; 
The Lord will answer you sometime, 

somewhere. 



Unanswered yet? Nay, do not say un- 
granted ; 
Perhaps your work is not yet wholly 
done. 

The work began when first your prayer 
was uttered. 
And God will finish what he has begun. 

If you will keep the incense burning 
there 

His glory you shall see sometime, some- 
where. 

Unanswered yet? Faith cannot be un- 
answered. 
Her feet were firmly planted on the 
Rock; 
Amid the wildest storms she stands un- 
daunted, 
Nor quails before the loudest thunder 
shock. 
She knows Omnipotence has heard her 

prayer. 
And cries, "It shall be done" — some- 
time, somewhere. 

— Frederick G. Browning. 



SECRET PRAYER 

Lord, I have shut my door — 

Shut out life's busy cares and fretting 

noise. 
Here in this silence they intrude no 

more. 
Speak thou, and heavenly joys 
Shall fill my heart with music sweet and 

calm — 

A holy psalm. 

Yes, I have shut my door, 

Even on all the beauty of thine earth — 

To its blue ceiling, from its emerald 

floor, 
Filled with spring's bloom and mirth; 
From these, thy works, I tuni; thyself 

I seek; 
To thee I speak. 

And I have shut my door 

On earthly passion — all its yearning 

love. 
Its tender friendships, all the priceless 

store 
Of human ties. Above 
All these my heart aspires, O Heart 

divine! 

Stoop thou to mine. 



PRAYER 



125 



Lord, I have shut my door! 

Come thou and visit me : I am alone ! 

Come as when doors were shut thou 

cam' St of yore 
And visited thine own. 
My Lord, I kneel with reverence, love, 
and fear, 

For thou art here. 

— Mary Ellen Atkinson. 



WHAT MAN IS THERE OF YOU? 

The homely words — how often read! 

How seldom fully known: 
"Which father of you, asked for bread. 

Would give his son a stone?" 

How oft has bitter tear been shed. 
And heaved how many a groan, 

Because thou wouldst not give for bread 
The thing that was a stone! 

How oft the child thou wouldst have fed 
Thy gift away has thrown; 

He prayed, thou heardst, and gavest 
bread — 
He cried, "It is a stone!" 

Lord, if I ask in doubt and dread. 

Lest I be left to moan. 
Am I not he, who, asked for bread. 

Would give his son a stone? 

— George Macdonald. 



DENIAL 



I want so many, many things. 
My wishes on my prayers take wings. 
And heavenward fly to sue for grace 
Before the loving Father's face. 

But He, well knowing all my need, 
Kindly rebukes my foolish greed. 
And, granting not the gift I ask. 
Sets me instead to do some task — 

Some lowly task — for love of him. 
So lowly, and in light so dim. 
My sorrowing soul must cease to sing. 
And only sigh, " 'Tis for the King." 

And scarcely can my faith repeat 
Her sad petition at his feet: 
"These daily tasks Thou giv'st to mc, 
Help, Lord, to do as unto theel" 



Y6t while his bidding thus I do — 
I know not how, or why, 'tis true — 
My thoughts to sweet contentment glide, 
And I forget the wish denied. 

And so my prayers he hears and heeds, 
Mindful of all my daily needs; 
Gracious, most gracious, too, in this — 
Denying, when 1 ask amiss. 

— Luella Clark. 



A BLESSING IN PRAYER 

If when I kneel to pray, 
With eager lips I say: 
"Lord, give me all the things that I de- 
sire — 
Health, wealth, fame, friends, brave 

heart, religious fire, 
The power to sway my fellow men at will, 
And strength for mighty works to banish 
ill"— 
In such a prayer as this 
The blessing I must miss. 

Or if I only dare 
To raise this fainting prayer: 
"Thou seest. Lord, that I am poor and 

weak. 
And cannot tell what things I ought to 

seek ; 
I therefore do not ask at all, but still 
I trust thy bounty all my wants to 
fill"— 
My lips shall thus grow dumb, 
The blessing shall not come. 

But if I lowly fall. 
And thus in faith I call: 
"Through Christ, O Lord, I pray thee 

give to me 
Not what I would, but what seems best 

to thee 
Of life, of health, of service, and of 

strength. 
Until to thy full joy I come at length " — 
My prayer shall then avail; 
The blessing shall not fail. 

— Charles F. Richardson. 



Teach me, dear Lord, what thou wouldst 

have me know; 
Guide me, dear Lord, where thou 

wouldst have me go; 
Help me, dear Lord, the precious seed 

to sow; 
Bless thou the seed that it may surely 

grow. 



126 



PRAYER 



THE TIME FOR PRAYER 

When is the time for prayer? 
With the first beams that Hght the 

morning sky, 
Ere for the toils of day thou dost prc- 

f)are, 
t up thy thoughts on high; 
Commend thy loved ones to his watch- 
ful care: 
Morn is the time for prayer! 

And in the noontide hour, 
If worn by toil or by sad care oppressed, 
Then unto God thy spirit's sorrows 
pour, 
And he will give thee rest: 
Thy voice shall reach him through the 
fields of air: 
Noon is the time for prayer! 

When the bright sun hath set. 
Whilst yet eve's glowing colors deck the 

skies. 
When with the loved, at home, again 
thou'st met. 
Then let thy prayers arise 
For those who in thy joys and sorrows 
share : 
Eve is the time for prayer! 

And when the stars come forth — 
When to the trusting heart sweet hopes 

are given 
And the deep stillness of the hour gives 
birth 
To pure bright dreams of heaven — 
Kneel to thy God; ask strength life's ills 
to bear: 
Night is the time for prayer. 

When is the time for prayer? 
In every hour, while life is spared to 

thee — 
In crowds or solitude — in joy or care — 
Thy thoughts should heavenward flee. 
At home — at morn and eve — with loved 
ones there, 
Bend thou the knee in prayer! 



NOT A SOUND INVADES THE 
STILLNESS 

Not a sound invades the stillness, 
Not a form invades the scene. 

Save the voice of my Beloved, 
And the person of my King. 



And within those heavenly places, 
Calmly hushed in sweet repose, 

There I drink, with joy absorbing. 
All the love thou wouldst disclose. 

Wrapt in deep adoring silence, 
Jesus, Lord, I dare not move, 

Lest I lose the smallest saying 
Meant to catch the ear of love. 

Rest, then, O my soul, contented: 
Thou hast reached thy happy place 

In the bosom of thy Saviour, 
Gazing up in his dear face. 



FORMAL PRAYER 

I often say my prayers. 

But do I ever pray; 

And do the wishes of my heart 

Go with the words I say? 

I may as well kneel down 
And worship gods of stone. 
As offer to the living God 
A prayer of words alone. 

For words without the heart 
The Lord will never hear: 
Nor will he to those lips attend 
Whose prayers are not sincere. 
— John Burton. 




BLESSINGS OF PRAYER 

What various hindrances we meet 

In coming to a mercy-seat! 

Yet who that knows the worth of 

prayer 
But wishes to be often there! 

Prayer makes the darkened cloud with- 
draw; 
Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw; 
Gives exercise to faith and love; 
Brings every blessing from above. 

Restraining prayer, we cease to fight; 
Prayer keeps the Christian's armor 

bright ; 
And Satan trembles when he sees 
The weakest saint upon his knees. 

Were half the breath that's vainly spent 
To heaven in supplication sent. 
Our cheerful song would oftener be 
" Hear what the Lord has done for me." 
- — William Cowper. 



PRAYER 



127 



WHAT IS PRAYER? 

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, 

Uttered or unexpressed; 
The motion of a hidden fire 

That trembles in the breast. 

Prayer is the burden of a sigh, 

The falling of a tear, 
The upward glancing of an eye. 

When none but God is near. 

Prayer is the simplest form of speech 

That infant lips can try; 
Prayer the sublimest strains that reach 

The Majesty on high. 

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice. 

Returning from his ways; 
While angels in their songs rejoice 

And cry, "Behold, he prays!" 

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, 

The Christian's native air. 
His watchword at the gates of death; 

He enters heaven with prayer. 

O Thou, by whom we come to God, 
The Life, the Truth, the Way; 

The path of prayer thyself hast trod: 
Lord, teach us how to pray! 

— ^James Montgomery. 



SPIRITUAL DEVOTION 

The woman singeth at her spinning 

wheel 
A pleasant chant, ballad, or baracolle; 
She thinketh of her song, upon the 

whole, 
Far more than of her flax; and yet the 

reel 
Is full, and artfully her fingers feel. 
With quick adjustment, provident con- 
trol. 
The lines, too subtly twisted to unroll. 
Out to a perfect thread. I hence appeal 
To the dear Christian Church, that we 

may do 
Our Father's business in these temples 

mirk 
Thus, swift and steadfast; thus, intent 

and strong; 
While, thus, apart from toil, our souls 

pursue 
Some high, calm, spheric tune and 

prove our work 
The better for the sweetness of our song. 
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



PRAYER OF DEEDS 

The deed ye do is the prayer ye pray; 

"Lead us into temptation. Lord; 
Withhold the bread from our babes this 
day; 
To evil we turn us, give evil's re- 
ward!" 

Over to-day the to-morrow bends 
With an answer for each acted prayer; 

And woe to him who makes not friends 
With the pale hereafter hovering 
there. — George S. Burleigh. 



SUNDAY 



Not a dread cavern, hoar with damp and 

mould. 
Where I must creep and in the dark and 

cold 
Offer some awful incense at a shrine 
That hath no more divine 
Than that 'tis far from life, and stern, 

and old; 

But a bright hilltop, in the breezy air 
Full of the morning freshness, high and 

clear, 
Where I may climb and drink the pure 

new day 
And see where winds away 
The path that God would send me, 

shining fair. 

— Edward Rowland Sill. 



PRAYER 



When prayer delights thee least, then 

learn to say, 
Soul, now is greatest need that thou 

should'st pray: 

Crooked and warped I am, and I would 

fain 
Straighten myself by thy right line 

again. 

Oh, come, warm sun, and ripen my late 

fruits; 
Pierce, genial showers, down to my 

parchfid roots. 

My well is bitter, cast therein the tree. 
That sweet henceforth its brackish 
waves may be. 



128 



PRAYER 



Say, what is prayer, when it is prayer 

indeed? 
The mighty utterance of a mighty need. 

The man is praying who doth press with 

might 
Out of his darkness into God's own light. 

White heat the iron in the furnace won, 
Withdrawn from thence 'twas cold and 
hard anon. 

P'lowers, from their stalk divided, 

presently 
Droop, fall, and wither in the gazer's 

eye. 

The greenest leaf, divided from its stem. 
To speedy withering doth itself con- 
demn. 

The largest river, from its fountain-head 
Cut off, leaves soon a jiarchod and dusty 
bed. 

All things that live from God their sus- 
tenance wait. 

And sun and moon are beggars at his 
gate. 

All skirts extended of thy mantle hold 
When angel hands from heaven are 
scattering gold. 

— Richard Chenevix Trench. 



MEANING OF PRAYER 

One thing, alone, dear Lord, I dread- 
To have a secret spot 

That separates my soul from thee, 
And yet to know it not. 

Prayer was not meant for luxury. 

Or selfish pastime sweet; 
It is the prostrate creature's place 

At his Creator's feet. 

But if this waiting long hath come 

A present from on high, 
Teach me to find the hidden wealth 

That in its depths may lie. 

So in the darkness I can learn 

To tremble and adore; 
To sovmd my own vile nothingness. 

And thtis to love thee more 

— Frederick William Faber. 



TALKING WITH GOD 

To stretch my hand and touch Him 

Though he be far away; 
To raise my eyes and sec him 

Through darkness as through day; 
To lift my voice and call him — 

This is to pray! 

To feel a hand extended 

By One who standeth near; 

To view the love that shincth 
In eyes serene and clear; 

To know that he is calling — 
This is to hear! 

—Samuel W. Duffield. 



MY PRAYER 



Being perplexed, I say, 
"Lord, make it right! 

Night is as day to thee, 
Darkness is light. 

I am afraid to touch 

Things that involve so much; 

My trembling hand may shake — 

My skillful hand may break; 

Thine can make no mistake." 

Being in doubt, I say, 

"Lord, make it plain! 
Which is the true, safe way? 
Which would be vain? 
I am not wise to know, 
Nor sure of foot to go; 
My blind eyes cannot see 
What is so clear to thee. 
Lord, make it clear to me." 



/ 



THE SOURCE OF POWER 

There is an eye that never sleeps 
Beneath the wing of night; 

There is an ear that never shuts 
When sink the beams of light. 

There is an arm that never tires 
When human strength gives way; 

There is a love that never fails 
When earthly loves decay. 

That eye is fixed on seraph throngs; 

That arm upholds the sky; 
That ear is filled with angel songs. 

That love is throned on high. 



PRAYER 



129 



But there's a power which man can wield 

When mortal aid is vain, 
That eye, that arm, that love to reach. 

That listening ear to gain. 

That power is prayer, which soars on 
high. 
Through Jesus, to the throne. 
And moves the hand which m<ives the 
world, 
To bring salvation down. 

— ^James Cowden Wallace. 



DIFFERENT PRAYERS 

Three doors there are in the temple 

Where men go up to pray, 
And they that wait at tnc outer gate 

May enter by cither way. 

There are some that pray by asking; 

They lie on the Master's bu-ast, 
And, shunning the strife of the lower life, 

They utter their cry for rest. 

There are some that pray by seeking; 

They doubt where their reason fails; 
But their mind's despair is the ancient 
prayer 

To touch the i^rint of the nails. 

There are some that pray by knocking; 

They put their strength to the wheel 
For they have not time for thoughts 
sublime; 

They can only act what they feel. 

Father, give each his answer, 

Each in his kindred way; 
Adapt thy light to his form of night 

And grant him his needed day. 

— William Watson. 



TRUE PRAYER 
I. 
It is not prayer, 
This clamor of our eager wants 

That fills the air 
With wearying, selfish plaints. 

It is not faith 
To boldly count all gifts as ours — 

The pride that saith, 
"For me his wealth he ever showers. 



It is not praise 
To call to mind our happier lot. 

And boast brignt days, 
God-favored, with all else forgot. 

II. 

It is true prayer 
To seek the giver more than gift 

God s life to share 
And love — for this our cry to lift. 

It is true faith 
To simply trust his loving will, 

Whiche'er he saith — 
"Thy lot be glad" or "ill." 

It is true jjraise 
To bless alike the Ijright and dark; 

To sing, all days 
Alike, with nightingale and lark. 

— James W. White. 



THE POWER OF PRAYER 

Lord, what a change within us one short 

hour 
Spent in thy presence will prevail to 

make ; 
What heavy burdens from our bosoms 

take; 
What parchM grounds refresh as with 

a shower I 
We kneel — and all about us seems to 

lower; 
We rise — and all, the distant and tlu; 

near. 
Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and 

clear. 
We kneel, how weak I we rise, how full 

of j)owcr! 
Why, therefore, should we do ourselves 

this wrong, 
Or f)thers, that we are not always strong; 
That we are ever overboriK? with care, 
Anxious and troubled, when with us is 

prayer, 
And joy and strength and courage are 

with thee? 

— Richard Chenevix Trench, 



Asked and imasked, thy heavenly gifts 
unfold, 

And evil, though we ask it. Lord, with- 
hold. 

— Hf)mer, tr. by Frederic RowIan4 
Marvin. 



r3o 



PRAYER 



MARY OF BETHANY 

Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, 
Nor other thought her mind admits 
But, he was dead, and there he sits. 

And he that brought him back is there. 

Then one deep love doth supersede 
A 11" other, when her ardent gaze 
Rovos from the living brother's face 

And rests upon the Life indeed. 

All subtle thought, all curious fears. 
Borne down by gladness so complete, 
She bows, she bathes the Saviour's 
feet 

With costly spikenard and with tears. 

Thrice blest whose lives are faithful 
prayers. 
Whose loves in higher love endure ; 
What souls possess themselves so pure, 
Or is there blessedness like theirs? 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



PRAYER ITS OWN ANSWER 

"Allah, Allah!" cried the sick man, 
racked with pain the long night 
through ; 

Till with prayer his heart was tender, till 
his lips like honey grew. 

But at morning came the Tempter; said, 
"Call louder, child of pain! 

See if Allah ever hoar, or answer 'Here 
am I' again." 

Like a stab the cruel cavil through his 

brain and pulses went; 
To his heart an icy coldness, to his brain 

a darkness, sent. 

Then before him stands Elias; says " My 
child! why thus dismayed? 

Dost repent thy former fervor? Is thy 
soul of prayer afraid?" 

"Ah!" he cried, "I've called so often; 

never heard the 'Here am I'; 
And I thought, God will not pity, will 

not turn on me his eye." 

Then the grave Elias answered, "God 

said, 'Rise, Elias, go, 
Speak to him, the sorely tempted; lift 

him from his gulf of woe. 



" 'Tell him that his very longing is itself 

an answering cry; 
That his prayer, "Come, gracious Allah," 

is my answer, "Here am I'". 

"Every inmost aspiration is God's 

angel undeliled; 
And in every 'O my Father!' slumbers 

deep a 'Here, my child!'" 
— Jelal-ed-Deen, tr. by James Freeman 
Clarke. 



THE CONTENTS OF PIETY 

"Allah!" was all night long the cry of 

one oppressed with care. 
Till softened was his heart, and sweet 

became his lips with prayer. 
Then near the subtle tempter stole, and 

spake : 

"Fond babbler, cease! 
For not one 'Here am I' has God e'er 

sent to give thee peace." 
With sorrow sank the svippliant's soul, 

and all his senses fled. 
But lo! at midnight, the good angel, 

Chiser, came, and said: 
"What ails thee now, my child, and why 

art thou afraid to pray? 
And why thy former love dost thou re- 
pent? declare and say." 
"Ah!" cries he, "never once spake God 

to me, 'Here am I, son.' 
Cast off methinks I am, and warned far 

from his gracious throne." 
To whom the angel answered, "Hear the 

word from God I bear: 
'Go tell,' he said, 'yon mourner, sunk in 

sorrow and despair, 
Each "Lord, appear!" thy lips pro- 
nounce contains my "Here am I"; 
A special messenger I send beneath 

thine every sigh; 
Thy love is but a guerdon of the love 1 

bear to thee. 
And sleeping in thy "Come, O Lord!" 

there lies "Here, son!" from me.'" 
— Oriental, tr. by William Rounseville 

Alger, 



He prayeth well who loveth well 
Both man and bird and beast. 
He prayeth best who loveth best 
All things, both great and small ; 
For the dear God who loveth us 
He made and loveth all. 

— Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 



PRAYER 



131 



ADORATION 

I love my God, but with no love of mine, 

For I have none to give; 
I love thee, Lord, but all the love is thine 

For by thy love I live. 
I am as nothing, and rejoice to be 
Emptied and lost and swallowed vip in 
thee. 



Thou, Lord, alone art all thy children 
need, 
And there is none beside; 
From thee the streams of blessedness 
proceed. 
In thee the blest abide — 
Fountain of life and all-abounding grace, 
Our source, our center, and our dwelling 
place. — Madame Guyon. 



WALKING WITH GOD 

O Master, let me walk with thee 
In lowly paths of service free; 
Tell me thy secret; help me bear 
The strain of toil, the fret of care. 

Help me the slow of heart to move 
By some clear, winning word of love; 
Teach me the wayward feet to stay, 
And guide them in the homeward way. 

Teach me thy patience 1 still with Thee 

In closer, dearer company: 

In work that keeps faith sweet and 

strong. 
In trust that triumphs over wrong. 

In hope that sends a shining ray 
Far down the future's broadening way; 
In peace that only thou canst give. 
With thee, O Master, let me live. 

— Washington Gladden. 



There was a man who prayed 

For wisdom that he might 
Sway men from sinful ways 

And lead them into light. 
Each night he knelt and asked the Lord 
To let him guide the sinful horde. 
And every day he rose again, 

To idly drift along. 
One of the many common men 

Who form the common throng. 



GRANTED OR DENIED 

To long with all our longing powers. 
And have the wish denied; 

To urge and strain our force in vain 
Against the unresting tide 

Of fate and circumstance, which still 

Baffles and beats and thwarts our will; 

To reach the goal toward which we 
strove 

All the long way and hard; 
To win the prize which, to our eyes, 

Seemed life's one best reward — 
Love's rose, Fame's laurel, olivcd Peace, 
The gold-fruit of Hesperides — 

And then to find the prize all vain. 

The joys all empty made — 
To taste the sting in each sweet thing. 

To watch Love's roses fade. 
The fruit to ashes turn, the gold 
To worthless dross within our hold! 

Now which has most of grief and jiain. 
Which is the worse to bear: 

The joy we crave and never haw. 
Or the curse of the granted prayer? 

The baflfled wish or the bitter rue — 

Could our hearts choose between the 
two? 

O will of God, thou blessfid will! 

Which, like a balmM air, 
The breath of s(juls about us rolls. 

Touching us everywhere, 
Imparting, like a soft caress, 
Healing, and helj), and tenderness, 

O will of God, be thou our will! 

Then, come or joy or pain. 
Made one with thee it cannot be 

That we shall wish in vain. 
And, whether granted f)r denied. 
Our hearts shall be all satisfied. 

— Susan Coolidge. 



OUT OF TOUCH 



L^ 



Only a smile, yes, only a smile 
That a woman o erburdened with grief 
Expected from you; 'twould have given 
relief. 
For her heart ached sore the while ; 
But weary and cheerless she went away, 
Becavtse, as it happened, that very day 
You were "out of touch" with your 
Lord. 



132 



PRAYER 



Only a word, yes, only u word. 
That the Spirit's small voice whispered 

' ' Speak ' ' ; 
But the worker passed onward un- 
blessed and weak 
Whom you were meant to have stirred 
To courage, devotion, and love anew. 
Because when the message came to you 
You were "out of touch" with your 
Lord. 

Only a note, yes, only a note • 
To a friend in a distant land. 
The Spirit said "Write," but then you 
had planned 
Some diftereiit work, and you thought 
It mattered little. You did not know 
'Twould have saved a soul from sin and 
woe; 
You were "out of touch" with your 
Lord. 

Only a song, yes, only a song 
That the Si)irit said "Sing to-night; 
Thy voice is thy Master's by purchased 
right"; 
But you thought, " 'Mid this motley 
throng 
I care not to sing of the city of gold " — 
And the heart that your words might 
have reached grew cold; 
You were "out of touch" with your 
Lord. 

Only a day, yes, only a day I 
But on, can you guess, my friend, 
Where the influence reaches, and where 
it will end 
Of the hours that you frittered away? 
The Master's command is "Abide in me" 
And fruitless and vain will your service 
be 
If "out of touch" with your Lord. 
— Jean H. Watson. 



Prayer is Innocence's friend; and will- 
ingly flieth incessant 

'Twixt the earth and the sky, the 
carrier-i)igeon of heaven. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 



We may question with wand of science. 
Explain, decide, and discuss; 

But only in meditation 

The Mystery speaks to us. 

—John Boyle O'Reilly. 



THE VALLEY OF SILENCE 

I walk down the Valley of Silence, 
Down the dim, voiceless valley alone! 

And I hear not the fall of a footstep 
Around me — save God's and my 
own! 

And the hush of my heart is as holy 
As hovers where angels have llown. 

Long ago was I weary of voices 

Whose music my heart could not win; 

Long ago was I weary of noises 

That fretted my soul with their din; 

Lf)ng ago was I weary of jilaces 

Where I met but the human and sin. 

And still did I puw for the j)erfect. 

And still found the false with the true; 
I sought 'mid the human for heaven. 
But caught a mere glimpse of the 
blue; 
And I wej)t when the clouds of the world 
veiled 
liven that glimpse from my view. 

And I toiled on, heart-tired of the 
human, 
And I moaned 'mid the mazes of men, 
'I'll! 1 kiu'll, long ago, at an altar. 
And heard a Voice call me. Since 
then 
I walk dt)wn the Valley of Silence 
That lies far beyond mortal ken. 

Do you ask what I found in the Valley? 

'Tis my trysting ])lace with the Divine. 
When I fell at the feet of the Holy, 

And about me a voice said, "He mine," 
There arose from the dejJths of my spirit 

An echo: "My heart shall be thine." 

Do you ask how I live in the Valley? 
I weep, and I dream, and I pray; 
Hut my tears are as sweet as tne dew- 
droj)s 
That fall on the roses in May; 
And my prayer, like a perfume from 
censer, 
Ascendeth to God night and day. 

In the hush of the Valley of Silence, 
I dream all the songs that I sing; 

And the music floats down the dim 
valley 
Till each finds a word for a wing. 

That to men, like the doves of the deluge 
The message of peace they may bring. 



PRAYER 



T^3i 



But far out on the deep there are billows 
That never shall break on the beach ; 

And I have heard songs in the silence 
That never shall Hoat into speech; 

And I have had dreams in the valley 
Too lofty for language to reach. 

And I have seen thoughts in the valley — 
Ah, me! how my sj)irit was stirred! 

And they wear holy veils on their faces — 
Their footsteps can scarcely be heard ; 

They pass through the valley like virgins 
Too pure for the touch of a word. 

Do you ask me the place of the Valley, 
Ye hearts that are harrowed by care ? 

It lieth afar, between mountains. 
And God and his angels are there; 

And one is the dark Mount of Sorrow, 
The other, the bright Mount of Prayer. 
— Abrara Joseph Ryan. 



HELP THOU MY UNBELIEF 

Because I seek thee not O seek thou me ! 
Because my lips are dumb O hear the 

cry 
I do not utter as thou passest by, 
And from my lifelong bondage .set me 

free! 
Because, content, I peri.sh far from thee, 

seize me, .snatch me from my fate 
and try 

My soul in thy consuming fire! Draw 
nigh 
And let me, blinded, thy salvation see. 

If I were pouring at thy feet my tears. 
If I were clamoring to see thy face, 

1 should not need thee, Lorcf, as now 

I need. 
Whose dumb, dead soul knows neither 

hopes nor fears, 
Nor dreads the outer darkness of this 

place. 
Because I seek not, pray not, give thou 

heed. 



PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN 

Two went to pray? O, rather say 
One went to brag, the other to pray; 
One stands up close and treads on high. 
Where the other dares not lend his eye ; 
One nearer to God's altar trod, 
The other to the altar's God. 

— Richard Crashaw. 



A MOMENT IN THE MORNING 

A moment in the morning, ere the cares 
of tin; day begin. 

Ere the heart's wide door is open for the 
world to enter in, 

Ah, then, alone with Jesus, in the silence 
of the morn. 

In heavenly sweet communion, let your 
duty-day be born. 

In the quietude that blesses with a pre- 
lude of repo.se 

Let your S(nil be smoothed and softened, 
as the dew revives the rose. 

A moment in the morning take your 

Bible in your hand, 
And catch a glimpse of glory from the 

peaceful promised land: 
It will linger still before you when you 

seek the busy mart. 
And like flowers of hope will blossom 

into beauty in your heart. 
The precious words, like jewels, will 

glisten all the day 
With a rare effulgent glory that will 

brighten all the way; 
When comes a sore temptation, and 

your feet are near a snare. 
You may count them like a rosary and 

make each one a jjrayer. 

A moment in the morning — a moment, 

if no more — 
Is better than an hour when the trying 

day is o'er. 
'Tis the gentle dew from heaven, the 

manna for the day ; 
If you fail to gather early — alas! it melts 

away. 
So, in the blush of morning, take the 

offered hand of love. 
And walk in heaven's pathway and the 

peacefulness thereof. 

— Arthur Lewis Tubbs. 



AN INVITATION TO PRAYER 

Come to the morning prayer. 
Come, let us kneel and pray; 

Prayer is the Christian pilgrim's staff 
To walk with God all day. 

At noon, beneath the Rock 

Of Ages rest and pray; 
Sweet is the shadow from the heat 

When the svm smites by day. 



'34 



PRAYER 



At eve, shut to the door, 
Round the home altar pray; 

And finding there "the house of God" 
At "heaven's gate" close the day. 

When midnight seals our eyes, 

Let each in spirit say, 
"I sleep, but my heart waketh, Lord, 

With thee to watch and pray." 

— James Montgomery. 



SELFISH PRAYER 

How we, poor players on life's little 

stage, 
Thrust blindly at each other in our rage, 
Quarrel and fret, yet rashly dare to pray 
To God to keep us on our selfish way. 

We think to move him with our prayer 

and praise 
To serve our needs, as in the old Greek 

days 
Their gods came down and mingled in 

the fight 
With mightier arms the flying foe to 

smite. 

The laughter of those gods pealed down 

to man; 
For heaven was but earth's upper story 

then, 
Where goddesses about an apple strove 
And the high gods fell humanly in love. 

We own a God whose presence fills the 

sky; 
Whose sleepless eyes behold the worlds 

roll by; 
Whose faithful memory numbers, one 

by one, 
The sons of man, and calls them each 

his son. 

— Louise Chandler Moulton. 



To make rough places plain, and crooked 

straight ; 
To help the weak; to envy not the 

strong; 
To make the earth a sweeter dwelling 

place. 
In little ways, or if we may, in great, 
And in the world to help the heavenly 

song. 
We pray. Lord Jesus, grant to us thy 

grace I 



THE TWO RELIGIONS 

A woman sat by a hearthside place 
Reading a book, with a pleasant face, 
Till a child came up, with a childish 

frown, 
And pushed the book, saying, "Put it 

down." 
Then the mother, slapping his curly 

head. 
Said, "Troublesome child, go off to bed; 
A great deal of Christ's life I must know 
To train you up as a child should go." 
And the child went off to bed to cry. 
And denounce religion — by and by. 

Another woman bent over a book 
With a smile of joy and an intent look, 
Till a child came up and jogged her knee. 
And said of the book, "Put it down — 

take me." 
Then the mother sighed as she stroked 

his head. 
Saying softly, " I never shall get it read : 
But I'll try by loving to learn His will, 
And his love into my child instill." 
That child went to bed without a sigh, 
And will love religion — by and by. 



A LIFE HID WITH CHRIST 

I have a life with Christ to live; 

But ere I live it must I wait 
Till learning can clear answer give 

Of this or that book's date? 

I have a life in Christ to live, 
I have a death in Christ to die; 

And must I wait till science give 
All doubts a full reply? 

Nay, rather, while the sea of doubt 

Is raging wildly round about, 

Questioning of life and death and sin, 

Let me but creep within 

Thy fold, O Christ, and at thy feet 

Take but the lowest seat, 

And hear thine awful voice repeat 

In gentlest accents, heavenly sweet, 

"Come unto me and rest; 

Believe me, and be blest." 

— John Campbell Shairp. 



Still raise for good the supplicating 

voice, 
But leave to Heaven the measure and 

the choice. — Dr. Samuel Johnson. 



PRAYER 



135 



PRAY ALWAYS 

Go when the morning shineth, 

Go when the noon is bright, 
Go when the eve decHneth, 

Go in the hush of night; 
Go with pure mind and feehng, 

Fling earthly thoughts away, 
And, in thy chamber kneeling. 

Do thou in secret pray. 

Remember all who love thee, 

All who are loved by thee; 
Pray, too, for those who hate thee. 

If any such there be. 
Then for thyself in meekness 

A blessing humbly claim, 
And link with thy petition 

The great Redeemer's name. 

Or, if 'tis e'er denied thee 

In solitude to pray. 
Should holy thoughts come o'er thee 

When friends are round thy way, 
E'en then the silent breathing 

Of thy spirit, raised above. 
May reach His throne of glory 

Who is mercy, truth and love. 

Oh! not a joy or blessing 

With this can we compare: 
The power that he hath given us 

To pour our hearts in prayer. 
Whene'er thou pin'st in sadness 

Before His footstool fall, 
And remember in thy gladness 

His grace who gave thee all. 

— ^Jane C. Simpson. 



More things are wrought by prayer 
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore 

let thy voice 
Rise like a fovintain for me night and 

day. 
For what are men better than sheep or 

goats. 
That nourish a blind life within the 

brain, 
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of 

prayer. 
Both for themselves and those who call 

them friend. 
For so the whole round earth is every 

way 
Bound by gold chains about the feet of 

God. — Alfred Tennyson. 



ENOCH 

He walked with God, by faith, in soli- 
tude. 
At early dawn or tranquil eventide; 
In some lone leafy place he would 
abide 

Till his whole being was with God im- 
bued. 

He walked with God amid the multi- 
tude ; 
No threats or smiles could his firm 

soul divide 
From that beloved presence at his 
side 

Whose still small voice silenced earth's 
noises rude. 

Boldly abroad to men he testified 

How "the Lord cometh" and the judg- 
ment brings; 

Gently at home he trained his "sons and 
davighters"; 

Till, praying, a bright chariot he espied 

Sent to translate him, as on angels' 
wings. 

To walk with God beside heaven's "liv- 
ing waters." — R, Wilton. 



A WORKER'S PRAYER 

Lord, speak to me, that I may speak 
In living echoes of thy tone; 

As thou hast sought, so let me seek 
Thy erring children, lost and lone. 

Oh, teach me. Lord, that I may teach 
The precious things thou dost impart ; 

And wing my words that they may reach 
The hidden depths of many a heart. 

Oh, give thine own sweet rest to me. 
That I may speak with soothing power 

A word in season, as from thee. 
To weary ones in needful hour. 

Oh, use me. Lord, use even me, 

Just as thou wilt, and when and 
where ; 

Until thy blessed face I see, 

Thy rest, thy joy, thy glory share. 



God answers prayer — 
Answers always, everywhere, 
I may cast my anxious care, 
Burdens I could never bear. 
On the God who heareth prayer. 



136 



PRAYER 



SUBMISSION AND REST 

The camel, at the close of day- 
Kneels down upon the sandy plain 
To have his burden lifted off 
And rest again. 

My soul, thou too should to thy knees 
When daylight draweth to a close, 
And let thy Master lift the load 

And grant repose. •• 

Else how couldst thou to-morrow meet, 
With all to-morrow's work to do. 
If thou thy burden all the night 
Dost carry through? 

The camel kneels at break of day 
To have his guide replace his load; 
Then rises up anew to take 
The desert road. 

So thou shovildst kneel at morning's 

dawn 
That God may give thee daily care; 
Assured that he no load too great 
Will make thee bear. 



TAKE TIME TO BE HOLY 

Take time to be holy; 

Speak oft with thy Lord; 
Abide in him always. 

And feed on his word; 
Make friends of God's children, 

Help those who are weak. 
Forgetting in nothing 

His blessing to seek. 

Take time to be holy; 

The world rushes on; 
Spend mtich time in secret 

With Jesus alone; 
By looking at Jesus 

Like him thou shalt be; 
Thy friends in thy conduct 

His likeness shall see. 

Take time to be holy; 

Let him be thy Guide, 
And run not before him 

Whatever betide; 
In joy or in sorrow 

Still follow thy Lord, 
And, looking to Jesus, 

Still trust in his word. 



Take time to be holy; 

Be calm in thy soul; 
Each thought and each motive 

Beneath his control; 
Thus led by his Spirit 

To fountains of love, 
Thou soon shalt be fitted 

For service above. 

— W. D. Longstaff. 



PRAYER FOR STRENGTH 

Father, before thy footstool kneeling, 
Once more my heart goes up to thee. 

For aid, for strength, to thee appealing. 
Thou who alone canst succor me. 

Hear me ! for heart and flesh are failing, 
My spirit yielding in the strife ; 

And anguish wild as unavailing 
Sweeps in a flood across my life. 

Help me to stem the tide of sorrow; 

Help me to bear thy chastening rod; 
Give me endurance; let me borrow 

Strength from thy promise, O my God! 

Not mine the grief which words may 

lighten ; 

Not mine the tears of common woes; 

The pang with which my heart-strings 

tighten 

Only the All-seeing One may know. 

And I am weak, my feeble spirit 

Shrinks from life's task in wild dis- 
may; 
Yet not that thou that task wouldst 
spare it. 
My Father, do I dare to pray. 

Into my soul thy might infusing. 

Strengthening my spirit by thine own ; 

Help me, all other aid refusing. 
To cling to thee, and thee alone. 

And O in my exceeding weakness 
Make thy strength perfect; thou art 
strong : 

Aid me to do thy will with meekness, 
Thou to whom all my powers belong. 

O let me feel that thou art near me; 

Close to thy side, I shall not fear; 
Hear me, O Strength of Israel, hear me, 

Sustain and aid! in mercy hear. 



PRAYER 



137 



LIGHT 

Lord, send thy light, 
Not only in the darkest night, 
But in the shadowy, dim twilight, 
Wherein my strained and aching sight 
Can scarce distinguish wrong from right, 
Then send thy light. 

Teach me to pray. 
Not only in the morning gray, 
Or when the moonbeam's silver ray 
Falls on me, but at high noonday, 
When pleasure beckons me away, 
Teach me to pray. 

— Constance Milman. 



OUR BURDEN BEARER 

The little sharp vexations 

And the briars that cut the feet. 
Why not take all to the Helper 

Who has never failed us yet? 
Tell him about the heartache. 

And tell him the longings too. 
Tell him the baflfled purpose 

When we scarce know what to do. 
Then, leaving all our weakness 

With the One divinely strong. 
Forget that we bore the burden 

And carry away the song. 

— Phillips Brooks. 



My proud foe at my hands to take no 

boon will choose. 
Thy prayers are that one gift which he 

cannot refuse. 

— Richard Chenevix Trench. 



ANSWER TO PRAYER 

Man's plea to man is, that he nevermore 
Will beg, and that he never begged be- 
fore; 
Man's plea to God is, that he did obtain 
A former suit, and therefore sues again. 
How good a God we serve, that, when 

we sue. 
Makes his old gifts examples of his new. 
— Francis Quarles. 



TALHAIRN'S PRAYER 

Grant me, O God, thy merciful protec- 
tion; 

And, in protection, give me strength, I 
pray; 

And, in my strength, O grant me wise 
discretion; 

And, in discretion, make me ever just; 

And, with my justice, may I mingle love. 

And, with my love, O God, the love of 
thee ; 

And, with the love of thee, the love of all. 
— From the Welsh. 



O sad estate 
Of human wretchedness ! so weak is man, 
So ignorant and blind, that did not God 
Sometimes withhold in mercy what we 

ask. 
We should be ruined at our own request. 
— Hannah More. 



Why win we not at once what we in 

prayer require? 
That we may learn great things as 

greatly to desire. 

— Richard Chenevix Trench. 



JOY 

PRAISE, CHEERFULNESS, HAPPINESS 



v/THE SECRET OF A HAPPY DAY 

Just to let thy Father do 

What he will; 
Just to know that he is true 

And be still. 
Just to follow hour by hour 

As He Icadeth; 
Just to draw the moment's power 

As it necdeth. 
Just to trust Him, this is all! 
Then the day will surely be 
Peaceful, whatsoe'er befall, 

Bright and blessed, calm and free. 

Just to let Him speak to thee 

Through his word. 
Watching that his voice may be 

Clearly heard. 
Just to tell Him every thing 

As it rises. 
And at once to him to bring 

All surprises. 
Just to listen, and to stay 

Where you cannot miss His voice. 
This is all I and thus to-day, 
Communing, you shall rejoice. 

Just to ask Him what to do 

All the day, 
And to make you quick and true 

To obey. 
Just to know the needed grace 

He bestoweth. 
Every bar of time and place 

Overfloweth. 
Just to take thy orders straight 

From the Master's own command. 
Blessed day! when thus we wait 
Always at our Sovereign's hand. 

Just to recollect his love, 

Always true ; 
Always shining from above, 

Always new. 
Just to recognize its light, 

All-enfolding; 



Just to claim its present might, 

All-upholding. 
Just to know it as thine own, 

That no power can take away; 
Is not this enough alone 

For the gladness of the day? 



Just to trust, and yet to ask 

Guidance still; 
Take the training or the task 

As He will. 
Just to take the joy or pain 

As He lends it; 
Just to take the loss or gain 

As he sends it 
He who formed thee for his praise 
Will not miss the gracious aim; 
So to-day, and all thy days, 
Shall be molded for the same. 



Just to leave in His dear hand 

Little things; 
All we cannot understand, 

All that slings. 
Just to let Him take the care 

Sorely pressing, 
Finding all we let him bear 
Changed to blessing. 
This is all! and yet the way 

Marked by Him who loves thee best ; 
Secret of a happy day, 

Secret of his promised rest. 

— Frances Ridley Havergal. 



GOD MEANS US TO BE HAPPY 

God means us to be happy; 

He fills the short-lived years 
With loving, tender mercies — 

With smiles as well as tears. 
Flowers blossom by the pathway. 

Or, withering, they shed 
Their sweetest fragrance over 

The bosoms of our dead. 



138 



JOY 



139 



God filled the earth with beauty; 

He touched the hills with light; 
He crowned the waving forest 

With living verdure bright ; 
He taught the bird its carol, 

He gave the wind its voice, 
And to the smallest insect 

Its moment to rejoice. 

What life hath not its blessing? 

Who hath not songs to sing, 
Or grateful words to utter, 

Or wealth of love to bring? 
Tried in affliction's furnace 

The gold becomes more pure — 
So strong doth sorrow make us, 

So patient to endure. 

No way is dark and dreary 

If God be with us there; 
No danger can befall us 

When sheltered by his care. 
Why should our eyes be blinded 

To all earth's glorious bloom? 
Why sit we in the shadow 

That falls upon the tomb? 

Look up and catch the sunbeams! 

See how the day doth dawn! 
Gather the scented roses 

That grow beside the thorn! 
God's pitying love doth seek us; 

He leads us to his rest; 
And from a thousand pathways 

He chooses what is best. 



THE PICTURE OF A HAPPY MAN 

How blest is he, though ever crossed. 
That can all crosses blessings make; 

That finds himself ere he be lost. 
And lose that found for virtue's sake. 

Yea, blest is he, in life and death. 
That fears not death nor loves this life ; 

That sets his will his wit beneath; 
And hath continual peace in strife. 

That naught observes but what pre- 
serves 

His mind and body from offense; 
That neither courts nor seasons serves, 

And learns without experience. 

That loves his body for his soul, 

Soul for his mind, his mind for God, 

God for himself, and doth control 
Content, if it with him be odd. 



That rests in action, acting naught 
But what is good in deed and show; 

That seeks but God within his thought. 
And thinks but God to love and know. 

That lives too low for envy's looks. 
And yet too high for loathed con- 
tempt ; 
That makes his friends good men and 
books 
And naught without them doth at- 
tempt. 

That ever lives a light to all, 

Though oft obscured like the sun; 

And, though his fortunes be but small. 
Yet Fortune doth not seek nor shun. 

That never looks but grace to find, 
Nor seeks for knowledge to be known ; 

That makes a kingdom of his mind. 
Wherein, with God, he reigns alone. 

This man is great with little state. 
Lord of the world epitomized, 

Who with staid front outfaceth Fate 
And, being empty, is sufficed — 

Or is sufficed with little, since (at least) 

He makes his conscience a continual 
feast. — John Davies, of Hereford. 



THANKS FOR PAIN 

My God, I thank thee who hast made 

The earth so bright; 
So full of splendor and of joy, 

Beauty and light; 
So many glorious things are here, 

Noble and right. 

I thank thee, too, that thou hast made 

Joy to abound; 
So many gentle thoughts and deeds 

Circling us round; 
That in the darkest spot of earth 

Some love is fotmd. 

I thank thee more that all our joy 

Is touched with pain; 
That shadows fall on brightest hours; 

That thorns remain; 
So that earth's bliss may be our guide 

And not our chain. 

I thank thee. Lord, that thou hast kept 

The best in store; 
We have enough, yet not too much, 

To long for more; 
A yearning for a deeper peace 

Not known before. 



I40 



JOY 



I thank thee, Lord, that here our souls 

Though amply blest. 
Can never find, although they seek, 

A perfect rest; 
Nor ever shall until they lean 

On Jesus' breast. 

— Adelaide Anne Procter. 



THE RIDICULOUS OPTIMIST 

There was once a man who smiled 
Because the day was bright, 
Because he slept at night, 
Because God gave him sight 

To gaze upon his child; 
Because his little one. 
Could leap and laugh and run; 
Because the distant sun 

Smiled on the earth he smiled. 

He smiled because the sky 
Was high above his head. 
Because the rose was red. 
Because the past was dead! 

He never wondered why 
The Lord had blundered so 
That all things have to go 
The wrong way, here below 

The overarching sky. 

He toiled, and still was glad 
Because the air was free. 
Because he loved, and she 
That claimed his love and he 

Shared all the joys they had I 
Because the grasses grew. 
Because the sweet winds blew, 
Because that he could hew 

And hammer, he was glad. 

Because he lived he smiled, 
And did not look ahead 
With bitterness or dread. 
But nightly sought his bed 

As- calmly as a child. 

And people called him mad 
For being always glad 
With such things as he had, 

And shook their heads and smiled. 
— Samuel Ellsworth Kiser. 



The soul contains a window where 
It may receive the sun and air. 
But some with self the window cloy. 
And shut out all the light and joy. 
— Nixon Waterman. 



PRAISE 

Thou, whose bounty fills my cup 
With every blessing meet! 

1 give thee thanks for every drop — 

The bitter and the sweet. 

I praise Thee for the desert road, 

And for the riverside; 
For all thy goodness hath bestowed, 

And all thy grace denied. 

I thank Thee for both smile and frown, 

And for the gain and loss; 
I praise thee for the future crown 

And for the present cross. 

I thank Thee for the wing of love 
Which stirred my worldly nest ; 

And for the stormy clouds which drove 
Me, trembling, to thy breast. 

I bless Thee for the glad increase, 

And for the waning joy; 
And for this strange, this settled peace, 

Which nothing can destroy. 

— ^Jane Crewdson. 



THANKSGIVING 

Lord, for the erring thought 
Not into evil wrought. 
Lord, for the wicked will. 
Betrayed and baffled still. 
For the heart from itself kept. 
Our thanksgiving accept. 

For the ignorant hopes that were 
Broken to our blind prayer; 
For pain, death, sorrow, sent 
Unto our chastisement; 
For all loss of seeming good. 
Quicken our gratitude. 

— William Dean Howells. 



RING, HAPPY BELLS 

Ring out the grief that saps the mind. 
For those that here we see no more; 
Ring out the feud of rich and poor, 

Ring in redress to all mankind. 

Ring out a slowly-dying cause. 

And ancient forms of party strife; 
Ring in the nobler modes of life. 

With sweeter manners, purer laws. 



JOY 



141 



Rine out the want, the care, the sin, 
The faithless coldness of the times ; 
Ring out, ring out rtiy mournful 
rhymes, 

But ring the ftiller minstrel in. 

Ring out false pride in place and blood. 
The civic slander and the spite; 
Ring in the love of truth and right 

Ring in the common love of good. 

Rin^ out old shapes of foul disease; 

Rmg out the narrowing lust of gold; 

Ring out the thousand wars of old, 
Ring in the thousand years of peace. 

Ring in the valiant man and free, 
The larger heart, the kindlier hand; 
Ring out the darkness of the land. 

Ring in the Christ that is to be. 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



THE CLEAR VISION 

Break forth, my lips, in praise, and own 

The wiser love severely kind; 
Since, richer for its chastening grown, 

I see, whereas I once was blind. 
The world, O Father, hath not wronged 
With loss the life by thee prolonged; 
But still, with every added year. 
More beautiful thy works appear. 

As thou hast made thy world without. 
Make thou more fair my world within ; 
Shine through its lingering clouds of 
doubt ; 
Rebuke its haunting shapes of sin; 
Fill, brief or long, my granted span 
Of life with love to thee and man; 
Strike when thou wilt the hour of rest, 
But let my last days be my best. 

— ^John Greenleaf Whittier. 



Then let us smile when skies are gray. 
And laugh at stormy weather! 

And sing life's lonesome times away; 

So — worry and the dreariest day 
Will find an end together 1 



Paul and Silas in their prison 
Sang of Christ the Lord arisen; 
And an earthquake's arm of might 
Broke their dungeon gates at night. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



SCATTER SUNSHINE 

In a world where sorrow ever will be 

known. 
Where are found the needy, and the sad 

and lone; 
How much joy and comfort we can all 

bestow 
If we scatter sunshine everywhere we go. 

Slightest actions often meet the sorest 

needs, 
For the world wants daily little kindly 

deeds; 
Oh, what care and sorrow we may help 

remove. 
With our songs and courage, sympathy 

and love. 

When the days are gloomy, sing some 

happy song. 
Meet the world's repining with a courage 

strong; 
Go, with faith undaunted, through the 

ills of life. 
Scatter smiles and sunshine o'er its toil 

and strife. 

— Lanta Wilson Smith. 



SOWING JOY 

I met a child, and kissed it; who shall 

say 

I stole a joy in which I had no part ? 

The happy creature from that very day 

Hath felt the more his little human 

heart. 

Now when I pass he runs away and 

smiles. 
And tries to seem afraid with pretty 
wiles. 
I am a happier and a richer man. 
Since I have sown this new joy in the 

earth ; 
'Tis no small thing for us to reap stray 
mirth 
In every sunny wayside where we can. 
It is a joy to me to be a joy 

Which may in the most lowly heart 
take root; 
And it is gladness to that little boy 
To look out for me at the mountain 
foot. 

— Frederick William Faber. 



Sow thou sorrow and thou shalt reap it; 
Sow thou joy and thou shalt keep it. 
— Richard Watson Gilder. 



142 



JOY 



A LANCASHIRE DOXOLOGY 

(Written in May, 1863, when cotton 
came to Lancashire, enabling the mills 
to open after being long closed. The 
suffering, grateful women sang the 
Doxology.) 

"Praise God from whom all blessings 

flow." 
Praise Him who sendeth joy and. woe. 
The Lord who takes — the Lord who 

gives — 
O praise him, all that dies, and lives. 

He opens and he shuts his hand, 
But why, we cannot imderstand. 
Pours and dries up his mercies' fl<iod, 
And yet is still All-jierfect Good. 

We fathom not the mighty plan. 
The mystery of God and man ; 
We women, when afflictions come. 
We only suflfer and are dumb. 

And when, the temjiest passing by, 
He gleams out, stm-likc, thnnigh our 

sky. 
We look up and, through black clouds 

riven, 
We recognize the smile of Heaven. 

Ours is no wisdom of the wise. 
We have no deep philosophies; 
Childlike we take both ki.ss and rod, 
For he who loveth knowelh God. 

— Dinah Maria Mulock Craik. 



VIA CRUCIS, VIA LUCIS 

Through night to light! And though 
to mortal eyes 
Creation's face a pall of horror wear, 
Good cheer! good cheer! the gloom of 
midnight flies; 
Then shall a sunrise follow, mild and 
fair. 

Through storm to calm! And 1 hough 
his thunder car 
The rumbling tempest drive through 
earth and sky. 
Good cheer! good cheer! The elemental 
war 
Tells that the blessed healing hour is 
nigh. 



Through frost to spring! And though 
the biting blast 
Of Eurus stifTcn nature's juicy veins. 
Good cheer! good cheer! When winter's 
wrath is past, 
Soft-murmuring spring breathes 
sweetly o'er the plains. 

Through strife to peace! And though 
with bristling front 
A thousand frightful deaths encom- 
pass thee, 
Good cheer! good cheer! brave thou the 
battle's brunt. 
For the peace-march and song of 
victory. 

Through toil to sleep! And though the 
sultry noon 
With heavy droojjing wing oppress 
thee now, 
Good cheer! good cheer! the cool of even- 
ing soon 
Shall lull to sweet repose thy weary 
brow. 

Through cross to crown ! And though thy 
si)irit's life 
Trials untold assail with giant 
strength, 
Good cheer! good cheer! soon ends the 
bitter strife. 
And thou shalt reign in peace with 
Christ at length. 

Through woe to joy! And though at 
morn thou weej), 
And though the midnight find thee 
weeping still, 
Good cheer! good cheer! the Shepherd 
loves his sheep; 
Resign thee to the wa.tchful Father's 

will. 
— Rosegarten, tr. by Charles Timothy 
Brooks. 



Talk Happiness. The world is sad 

enough 
Without your woes. No path is wholly 

rough ; 
Look for the places that are smooth and 

clear. 
And speak of those to rest the weary 

ear 
Of earth, so hurt by one continuous 

strain 
Of human discontent and grief and pain. 



JOY 



143 



SERVE GOD AND BE CHEERFUL 

Serve God and be cheerful. Make 
brighter 

The brightness that falls to thy lot; 
The rare, or the daily sent, blessing 

Profane not with gloom or with doubt. 

Serve God and be cheerful. Each sor- 
row 
Is — with thy will in God's — for the 
best. 
O'er the cloud hangs the rainbow. To- 
morrow 
Will see the blue sky in the west. 

Serve God and be cheerful. Look up- 
ward! 

God's countenance scatters the gloom ; 
And the soft summer light of his heaven 

Shines over the cross and the tomb. 

Serve God and be cheerful. The 
wrinkles 
Of age we may take with a smile; 
But the wrinkles of faithless foreboding 
Are the crow's-feet of Beelzebub's 
guile. 

Serve God and be cheerful. The winter 
Rolls round to the beautiful spring. 

And o'er the green grave of the snow- 
drift 
The nest-building robins will sing. 

Serve God and be cheerful. Live nobly, 
Do right, and do gcKxl. Make the best 

Of the gifts and the work put before you, 
And to God without fear leave the 
rest. — William Newell. 



BRING EVERY BURDEN 

Be trustful, be steadfast, whatever be- 
tide thee, 
Only one thing do thou ask of the 
Lord — 
Grace to go forward wherever he guide 
thee, 
Simply believing the truth of his word. 

Earthliness, coldness, unthankful be- 
havior — 
Ah! thou mayst sorrow, but do not 
despair. 
Even this grief thou mayst liring to thy 
Saviour, 
Cast upon him this burden of care! 



Bring all thy hardness — His power can 
subdue it, 
Kow full is the promise! The blessing 
how free: 
"Whatsoever ye ask in my name, I 
will do it; 
Abide in my love and be joyful in me." 



THY LOVING KINDNESS 

Not always the path is easy; 

There are thickets hung with gloom. 
There are rough and stony places 

Where never the roses bloom. 
But oft, when the way is hardest, 

I am conscious of One at my side 
Whose hands and whose feet are 
wounded. 

And I'm happy and safe with my 
Guide. 

Better than friends and kindred, 

Better than love and rest. 
Dearer than hfv[)e and triumph. 

Is the name I wear on my orcast. 
I feel my way through the shadows 

With a confident heart and brave; 
I shall live in the light beyond them; 

I shall conquer death and the grave. 

Often when tried and tempted. 

Often, ashamed of sin — 
That, strong as an armed invader. 

Has made wreck of the peace within — 
That wonderful loving-kindness, 

Patient and full and free. 
Has stooped for my cf)nsolation; 

Has brought a blessing to me. 

Therefore my lips shall praise thee. 

Therefore, let come wnat may. 
To the height of a solemn gladness 

My song shall arise to-day. 
Not on the drooping willow 

Shall I hang my harp in the land. 
When the Lord himself has cheered me 

By the touch of his pierced hand. 
— Margaret Elizabeth Sangster. 



To try each day his will to know; 
To tread the way his will may show; 
To live for him who gave me life; 
To strive for him who suffered strife 
And sacrifice through death for me — 
Let this my joy, my portion be. 



144 



JOY 



THANKS 

I thank thcc, Lord, for mine unanswered 
prayers, 
Unanswered save thy quiet, kindly 
"Nay"; 
Yet it seemed hard among my heavy 
cares — 

That bitter day. 

I wanted joy; but Thou didst know for 
me 
That sorrow was the gift I needed 
most. 
And in its mystic depths I k^amed to see 
The Holy Ghost. 

I wanted health; but thou didst bid me 
sound 
The secret treasuries of jiain, 
And in the moans and groans my heart 
oft found 

Thy Christ again. 

I wanted wealth; 'twas not the better 
part; 
There is a wealth with poverty oft 
given. 
And thou didst teach me of the gold of 
heart — 

Best gift of heaven. 

I thank thcc. Lord, for these tuianswered 
jiraycrs, 
And lor thy word, the quiet, kindlv 
"Nay." 
'Twas thy withholding lightened all my 
cares 

That blessed day. 

— Oliver Huekel. 



THE GLORIOUS MORN 

Open the shutters free and wide. 

And "glorify the room"; 
That no dark shadows here may bide — 

That there be naught of gloom. 

What joy to breathe the morning air. 

And see the sun again ; 
With living things God's love to share. 

In recompense for pain. 

— Henry Coyle. 



For all the evils under the sun 
There is some remedy or none; 
If there is one be sure to find it; 
If there is none, why, never mind it. 



EVENING PRAISE 

Again, O God, the night shuts down, 

Again I kneel to praise! 
Thy wisdom, love, and truth and power 

Have long made glad my days. 
And, now, with added gratitude, 

An evening hymn I raise. 

I take the attitude of prayer, 

But not for gifts to plead; 
Thy bounty, far beyond desert. 

Has more than met my need; 
So, well content, I worship Thee 

In thought and word and deed. 

Thou bidst m-? ask, if I'd receive, 

And seek, if I would find; 
But surely Thou wilt not condemn 

A heart to trust inclined. 
Give what is best; Thou knowest all. 

How blest the quiet mind! 

I praise thee that in all the hours 
And moments, as they glide, 

Thy providence enfoldeth close; 
Thy blessings rich abide; 

And Thou dost keep in perfect peace 
Those who in thee confide. 

I praise thee for what seemeth good. 

And for what seemeth ill. 
Appearances are vain deceits; 

Above them stands thy will; 
By faith, not sight, thy children walk. 

In hottest fire hold still. 

Accept the ofT'ring that I lay 

In gladness at thy feet; 
My heart o'erflows with keenest joy, 

With ecstacy complete. 
Because, in all vicissitudes. 

Thy constancy I greet. 

Thou wilt not cease to love me well. 

Nor fail to hold me fast; 
Though pain may come, it cannot harm; 

My care on thee is cast. 
For future good he'll surely send 

Who sent so sweet a past. 

Praise waits in Zion, Lord, for thee. 
Praise runs the world around; 

And so this little heart of mine 
Shall ne'er in gloom be found, 

Reioicing that all days and nights 
May with thy praise resound. 

— ^James Mudge. 



JOY 



M5 



GO TELL JESUS -• 

Bury thy sorrow, 

The world has its share; 
Bury it deeply, 

Hide it with care. 

Think of it calmly 

When curtained by night; 
Tell it to Jesus, 

And all will be right. 

Tell it to Jesus, 

He knoweth thy grief; 
Tell it to Jesus, 

He'll send thee relief. 

Gather the sunlight 
Aglow on thy way; 

Gather the moonbeams, 
Each soft silver ray. 

Hearts grown aweary 

With heavier woe, 
Droop 'mid the darkness — 

Go comfort them, go I 

Bury thy sorrow. 
Let others be blest; 

Give them the sunshine, 
Tell Jesus the rest. 



WE WILL PRAISE THEE 

Great Jehovah! we will praise thee. 
Earth and heaven thy will obey; 

Suns and systems move obedient 
To thy universal sway. 

Deep and awful are thy counsels; 

High and gloriovis is thy throne; 
Reigning o'er thy vast dominion, 

Thou art God and thou alone. 

In thy wondrous condescension 
Thou hast stooped to raise our race ; 

Thou hast given to us a Saviour, 
Full of goodness and of grace. 

By his blood we are forgiven, 

Bv his intercession free. 
By fiis love we rise to glory 

There to reign eternally. 

God of Power — we bow before thee; 

God of Wisdom — thee we praise; 
God of Love — so kind and tender, 

We would praise thee all our days. 



Praise to thee — our loving Father; 

Praise to thee — redeeming Son; 
Praise to thee — Almighty Spirit; 

Praise to thee — -Thou Holy One. 
— ^John White. 



AFTER ALL 



We take ovtr share of fretting, 
Of grieving and forgetting; 
The paths are often rough and steep, 
and heedless feet may fall; 
But yet the days are cheery. 
And night brings rest when weary 
And somehow this old planet is a good 
world after all. 

Though sharp may be our trouble, 
The joys are more than double. 
The brave surpass the cowards and the 
leal are like a wall 
To guard their dearest ever, 
To fail the feeblest never; 
And somehow this old earth remains a 
bright world after all. 

There's always love that's caring. 

And shielding and forbearing. 

Dear woman's love to hold us close and 

keep our hearts in thrall. 

There's home to share together 

In calm or stormy weather. 

And while the hearth-flame burns it is 

a good world after all. 



Th 



The lisp of children's voices, 
The chance of happy choices, 
bugle sounds of hope and faith, 
through fogs and mists that call ; 
The heaven that stretches o'er us, 
The better days before us, 
rhey all combine to make this earth a 
good world after all. 
— Margaret Elizabeth Sangster. 



Sound an anthem in your sorrows. 
Build a fortress of your fears; 

Throw a halo round your trials. 
Weave a rainbow of your tears. 

Never mind if shadows darken. 

Never fear though foes be strong; 

Lift yovir heads and shout hosannah! 
Praise the Lord, it won't be long. 



146 



JOY 



BE OF GOOD CHEER 

God is near thee, Christian; cheer thee, 

Rest in him, sad soul ; 
He will keep thee when around thee 

Billows roll. 

Calm thy sadness, look in gladness 

To thy Friend on high; 
Faint and weary pilgrim, cheer thee; 

Help is nigh. 

Mark the sea-bird wildly wheeling 

Through the stormy skies; 
God defends him, God attends him 

When he cries. 

Fare thee onward through the sunshine 

Or through wintry blast; 
Fear forsake thee; God will take thee 

Home at last. 



PESSIMIST AND OPTIMIST 

This one sits shivering in Fortune's 
smile. 
Taking his joy with bated, doubtful 
breath. 
This one, gnawed by hunger, all the 
while 
Laughs in the teeth of death. 

— Thomas Bailey Aldrich. 



PRAISE WAITETH FOR THEE 

They stand, the regal mountains, with 

crowns of spotless snow. 
Forever changeless, grand, sublime, 

while ages come and go! 
Each day the morning cometh in 

through the eastern gate. 
With trailing robes of pink and gold ; yet 

still they watch and wait 
For that more glorious morning, till that 

glad message sounds — 
"Lift up your heads, ye gates of God! 

the King of glory comes!" 

And so they stand o'erlooking earth's 
trouble, pain and sin, 

And wait the call to lift their gates and 
let the King come in. 

O calm, majestic mountains! O ever- 
lasting hills! 

Beside your patient watch how small 
seem all life's joys and ills! 



Beyond, the restless ocean, mysterious, 
vast, and dim, 

Whose changeful waves forever chant 
their grand triumphal hymn. 

Now tempest-lashed and raging, with 
deep and hungry roar, 

The foam-capped billows dash them- 
selves in anger on the shore, 

Now wavelets ripple gently along the 

quiet strand. 
While summer's sunshine broodeth soft 

o'er all the sea and land. 
O mighty waves! as chainless, as free, 

as birds that skim! 
There's One who rules the stormy sea — 

thy song is all of him. 

And so in the shadowy forest the birds 

sing loud and sweet 
From swaying boughs where breezes 

rock their little broods to sleep. 
The golden cups of the cowslip spring 

from the mossy sod. 
And the sweet blue violet blooms alone 

— just for itself and God. 

It is aye the same old lesson, from movm- 
tain, wood, and sea. 

The old, old story, ever new, and won- 
drous grand to me — 

Of One who holds the waters in the hol- 
low of his hand ; 

Whose presence shone from moimtain 
top in that far eastern land. 

"The groves are God's own temples"; 

the wild birds sing his praise; 
And every flower in the forest dim its 

humble tribute pays; 
For God loves all his creatures, however 

weak and small; 
His grandest works give praise to him, 

for he is Lord of all. 



We cannot make bargains for blisses. 

Nor catch them like fishes in nets; 
And sometimes the thing our life misses 

Helps more than the thing which it 
gets. 
For good lieth not in pursuing. 

Nor gaining of great nor of small, 
But just in the doing, and doing 

As we would be done by is all. 

— Alice Cary. 



y 



JOY 



147 



DON'T TAKE IT TO HEART 
There's many a trouble 
Would break like a bubble, 
And into the waters of Lethe depart, 
Did we not rehearse it, 
And tenderly nurse it. 
And give it a permanent place in the 
heart. 

There's many a sorrow 

Would vanish to-morrow 
Were we but willing to furnish the wings; 

So sadly intruding, 

And quietly brooding, 
It hatches out all sorts of horrible things. 

How welcome the seeming 
Of looks that are beaming 
Whether one's wealthy or whether one's 
poor; 
Eyes bright as a berry. 
Cheeks red as a cherry, 
The groan and the curse and the heart- 
ache can cure. 

Resolve to be merry, 
All worry to ferry 
Across the famed waters which bid us 
forget, 
And no longer fearful, 
But happy and cheerful. 
We feel life has much that's worth living 
for yet. 



ALTHOUGH— YET 

Away! my unbelieving fearl 

Fear shall in me no more have place; 
My Saviour doth not yet appear. 

He hides the brightness of his face, 
But shall I therefore let him go. 

And basely to the tempter yield? 
No, in the strength of Jesus, no; 

I never will give up my shield. 

Although the vine its fruit deny. 

Although the olive yield no oil, 
The withering fig-trees droop and die. 

The fields elude the tiller's toil. 
The empty stall no herd afford, 

And perish all the bleating race. 
Yet will I triumph in the Lord — 

The God of my salvation praise. 

— Charles Wesley. 



'Tis impious in a good man to be sad. 
— Edward Yoimg. 



AS A BIRD IN MEADOWS FAIR 

As a bird in meadows fair 

Or in lovely forest sings. 
Till it fills the summer air 

And the green wood sweetly rings, 
So my heart to thee would raise, 
O my God, its song of praise 
That the gloom of night is o'er 
And I see the sun once more. 

If thou. Sun of love, arise. 

All my heart with joy is stirred. 
And to greet thee upward flies. 

Gladsome as yon tiny bird. 
Shine thou in me, clear cmd bright, 
Till I learn to praise thee right; 
Guide me in the narrow way. 
Let me ne'er in darkness stray. 

Bless to-day whate'er I do; 

Bless whate'er I have and love; 
From the paths of virtue true 

Let me never, never rove; 
By thy sj^irit strengthen me 
In the faith that leads to Thee, 
Then, an heir of life on high, 
Fearless I may live and die. 



"HE DOETH ALL THINGS WELL!" 

Pleased in the sunshine, pleased in the 
blast. 

Pleased when the heavens are all over- 
cast. 

Pleased when I can or cannot see 

God's loving hand is dealing with me. 

Pleased, for Christ's promises never can 

fail; 
Pleased in the calm and also the gale; 
Knowing Omniscience at midnight can 

see, 
Since he was Pilot on dark Galilee. 

Pleased when in health or when I am ill, 
Pleased, since I know I'm in the Lord's 

will. 
Pleased with whatever my lot may be 
Knowing Omnipotence careth for me. 



Beneath the tiger's jaw I heard a victim 

cry, 
"Thanks, God, that, though in pain, 

yet not in guilt I die." 

— From the Persian. 



148 



JOY 



THE ROBIN'S SONG 

I'll sing you a lay ere I wing on my way, 

Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer up! 
Whenever you're blue ftnd something 

to do 
For somebody else who is sadder than 
you. 
Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer up! 



He growled at morning, noon, and night, 

And trouble sought to borrow ; 
Although to-day the sky were bright 

He knew 'twould storm to-morrow; 
A thought of joy he could not stand, 

And struggled to resist it; 
Though sunshine dappled all the land 

This sorry pessimtst it. 

— Nixon Waterman. 



Oh, be in God's clear world no dark and 

troubled sprite! 
To Christ, thy Master mild, do no such 

foul despite; 
But show in look, word, mien, that thou 

belongst to him, 
Who says, "My yoke is easy, and my 

burden light." 

— Friedrich Rttckert. 



Let us gather up the sunbeams 

Lying all around our path; 
Let us keep the wheat and roses. 

Casting out the thorns and chaff; 
Let us find our sweetest comfort 

In the blessings of to-day. 
With a patient hand removing 

All the briars from our way. 



O give me the joy of living 

And soine glorious work to do! 
A spirit of thanksgiving, 

With loyal heart and true; 
Some pathway to make brighter, 

Where tired feet now stray; 
Some burden to make lighter, 

While 'tis day. 



True happiness (if understood) 
Consists alone in doing good. 



Talk happiness each chance you get — 

and talk it good and strong! 
Look for it in the byways as you grimly 

pass along; 
Perhaps it is a stranger now whose visit 

never comes, 
But talk it! Soon you'll find that you and 

happiness are chums. 



'Tis Being and Doing and Having that 

make 
All the pleasures and pains of which 

mortals partake. 
To Be what God pleases, to Do a man's 

best. 
And to Have a good heart, is the way 

to be blest. 



If the weather is cold don't scold, 
If the weather is wet don't fret, 
If the weather is warm don't storm, 
If the weather is dry don't cry; 
But be cheerfvil together, whatever the 
weather. 



The inner side of every cloud 

Is bright and shining; 
Therefore I turn my clouds about, 
And always wear them inside out, 

To show the lining. 
— Ellen Thomycroft Fowler Felkin, 



Let him that loves his ease, his ease. 

Keep close and house him fair; 
He'll still be a stranger to the merry 
thrill of danger 
And the joy of the open air. 

— Richard Hovey. 



There is no human being 
With so wholly dark a lot. 

But the heart, by tviming the picture, 
May find some sunny spot. 



Let us cry. All good things 

Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more now 

Than flesh helps soul. 

— Robert Browning. 



AFFLICTION 

CONSOLATION, TRIAL, ENDURANCE 



RESIGNATION 

There is no flock, however watched and 
tended, 

But one dead lamb is there! 
There is no fireside, howsoe'cr defended, 

But has one vacant chair. 

The air is full of farewells to the dying 
And mourning for the dead; 

The heart of Rachel, for her children 
crying. 
Will not be comforted! 

Let us be patient! These severe afflic- 
tions 

Not from the ground arise. 
But oftentimes celestial benedictions 

Assume this dark disguise. 

We see but dimly through the mists and 
vapors ; 
Amid these earthly damps 
What seem to us but sad, funereal 
tapers 
May be heaven's distant lamps. 

There is no Death! What seems so is 
transition ; 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 

Whose portal we call death. 

She is not dead — the child of our affec- 
tion — 
But gone imto that school 
Where she no longer needs our poor pro- 
tection, 
And Christ himself doth rule. 

In that great cloister's stillness and 
seclusion. 
By guardian angels led, 
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's 
pollution. 
She lives, whom wc call dead. 



Day after day we think what she is 
doing 
In those bright realms of air; 
Year after year, hef tender steps pur- 
suing. 
Behold h^r grown more fair. 

Thus do we walk with her and keep un- 
broken 
The bond which nature gives. 
Thinking that our remembrance, though 
unspoken, 
May reach her where she lives. 

% 9|t ))■ i|C >|C 

We will be patient, and assuage the 
feeling 
We may not wholly stay; 
By silence sanctifying, not concealing. 
The grief that must have way. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



MADE PERFECT THROUGH 
SUFFERING 

I bless thee. Lord, for sorrows sent 
To break my dream of human power; 

For now, my shallow cistern spent, 
I find thy founts, and thirst no more, 

I take Thy hand, and fears grow still; 

Behold thy face, and doubts remove; 
Who would not yield his wavering will 

To perfect Truth and boundless Love ? 

That Love this restless soul doth teach 
The strength of thine eternal calm ; 

And tune its sad but broken speech 
To join on earth the angel's psalm. 

Oh, be it patient in thy hands, 

And drawn, through each mysterious 
hour. 
To service of thy pure commands. 
The narrow way of Love and Power. 
— Samuel Johnson. 



149 



ISO 



AFFLICTION 



GO NOT FAR FROM ME 

Go not far from me, O my strength, 

Whom all my times obey: 
Take from me any thing Thou wilt, 

But go not thou away — 
And let the storm that does thy work 

Deal with me as it may. 

On thy compassion I repose, 
In weakness and distress; v 

I will not ask for greater ease, 
Lest I should love Thee less. 

Oh 'tis a blessed thing for me 
To need thy tenderness. 

While many sympathizing hearts 

For my deliverance care, 
Thou, in thy wiser, stronger love. 

Art teaching me to bear — 
By the sweet voice of thankful song, 

And calm, confiding prayer. 

Thy love has many a lighted path. 

No outward eye can trace, 
And my heart sees thee in the deep, 

With darkness on its face. 
And communes with thee, 'mid the 
storm. 

As in a secret place. 

O Comforter of God's redeemed, 
Whom the world does not see, 

What hand should pluck me from the 
flood 
That casts my soul on thee? 

Who would not suffer pain like mine 
To be consoled like me? 

When I am feeble as a child. 
And flesh and heart give way, 

Then on thy everlasting strength 
With passive trust I stay. 

And the rough wind becomes a song. 
The darkness shines like day. 

O blessed are the eyes that see — 
Though silent anguish show — 

The love that in their hours of sleep 
Unthanked may come and go. 

And blessed are the ears that hear, 
Though kept awake by woe. 

Happy are they that learn, in thee — 
Though patient svtffering teach — 

The secret of enduring strength 
And praise too deep for speech: 

Peace that no pressure from without. 
No strife within, can reach. 



There is no death for me to fear. 
For Christ, my Lord, hath died; 

There is no curse in this my pain. 
For he was crucified. 

And it is fellowship with him 
That keeps me near his side. 

My heart is fixed — O God, my strength — ■ 
My heart is strong to bear; 

I will be joyful in thy love, 
And peaceful in thy care. 

Deal with me, for my Saviour's sake. 
According to his prayer. 

No suffering while it lasts is joy. 

How blest soe'er it be. 
Yet may the chastened child be glad 

His Father's face to see; 
And oh, it is not hard to bear 

What must be borne in thee. 

It is not hard to bear by faith, 

In thine own bosom laid. 
The trial of a soul redeemed, 

For thy rejoicing made. 
Well may the heart in patience rest 

That none can make afraid. 

Safe in thy sanctifying grace — 

Almighty to restore — 
Borne onward, sin and death behind, 

And love and life before, 
O let my soul abound in hope. 

And praise thee more and more. 

Deep imto deep may call, but I 
With peaceful heart will say — 

Thy loving-kindness hath a charge 
No waves can take away; 

And let the storm that speeds me home 
Deal with me as it may. 

— Anna Letitia Waring. 



Walking along the shore one morn, 
A holy man by chance I found 

Who by a tiger had been torn 

And had no salve to heal his wound. 

Long time he suffered grievous pain, 
But not the less to the Most High 
He offered thanks. They asked him. 
Why? 

For answer he thanked God again; 

And then to them: "That I am in 
No greater peril than you see: 
That what has overtaken me 

Is but misfortime — and not sin." 

— Richard Henry Stoddard. 



AFFLICTION 



151 



THE CELESTIAL SURGEON 

If I have faltered more or less 
In my great task of happiness ; 
If I have moved among my race 
And shown no glorious morning face; 
If beams from happy human eyes 
Have moved me not ; if morning skies, 
Books, and my food, and summer rain 
Knocked on my sullen heart in vain; 
Lord, thy most pointed pleasure take 
And stab my spirit broad awake; 
Or, Lord, if too obdurate I, 
Choose thou, before that spirit die, 
A piercing pain, a killing sin, 
And to my dead heart run them in. 
— Robert Louis Stevenson. 



I ASKED THE LORD THAT I 
MIGHT GROW 

I asked the Lord that I might grow 
In faith and love and every grace; 

Might more of his salvation know, 
And seek more earnestly his face. 

'Twas He who taught me thus to pray. 
And he, I trust, has answer'd prayer; 

But it has been in such a way 
As almost drove me to despair. 

I hop'd that in some favor'd hour 
At once he'd answer my request. 

And by his love's constraining power 
Subdue my sins and give me rest. 

Instead of this he made me feel 
The hidden evils of my heart. 

And let the angry powers of hell 
Assault my soul in ev'ry part. 

Yes, more : with his own hand he seem'd 
Intent to aggravate my woe, 

Cross'd all the fair designs I schemed. 
Blasted my gourds and laid them low. 

"Lord, why is this?" I trembling cried; 

*'Wilt thou pursue thy worm to 
death?" 
*' 'Tis in this way," the Lord replied, 

"I answer prayer for grace and faith. 

"These inward trials I employ 

From self and pride to set thee free. 

And break thy schemes of earthly joy 
That thou mayest set thine all in me ! " 
— ^John Newton. 



"THOU MAINTAINEST MY LOT" 

Source of my life's refreshing springs, 
Whose presence in my heart sustains 
me. 

Thy love appoints me pleasant things. 
Thy mercy orders all that pains me. 

If loving hearts were never lonely. 
If all they wished might always be. 

Accepting what they look for only. 
They might be glad — but not in thee. 

Well may thy own beloved, who see 
In all their lot their Father's pleasure, 

Bear loss of all they love save thee, 
Their living, everlasting treasure. 

Well may thy happy children cease 
From restless wishes, prone to sin, 

And, in thine own exceeding peace, 
Yield to thy daily discipline. 

We need as much the cross we bear 
As air we breathe, as light we see! 

It draws us to thy side in prayer, 
It binds us to our strength in thee. 
— Anna Letitia Waring. 



THE MASTER'S TOUCH 

In the still air the music lies unheard; 
In the rough marble beauty hides un- 
seen; 
To make the music and the beauty needs 
The master's touch, the sculptor's 
chisel keen. 

Great Master, touch us with thy skillful 
hand; 
Let not the music that is in us die. 
Great Sculptor, hew and polish us; nor 
let 
Hidden and lost thy form within us 
liel 

Spare not the stroke! Do with us as 
thou wilt! 
Let there be naught unfinished, 
broken, marred; 
Complete thy purpose that we may be- 
come 
Thy perfect image, thou our God and 
Lord! — Horatius Bonar. 



The childish smile is fair, but lovelier far 
The smiles which tell of griefs that now 
no longer are. — ^John Sterling. 



152 



AFFLICTION 



A BLESSING IN TEARS 

Home they bi-ought her warrior dead; 

She nor swoon'd nor uttered cry. 
All her maidens, watching, said, 

"She must weep or she will die." 

Then they praised him, soft and low, 
Call'd him worthy to be loved, 

Trviest friend, and noblest foe; 
Yet she neither spoke nor moyed. 

Stole a maiden from her place. 
Lightly to the warrior stept, 

Took the face-cloth from the face; 
Yet she neither moved nor wept. 

Rose a nurse of ninety years, 
Set his child upon her knee; 

Like summer tempest came her tears: 
"Sweet my child, I live for thee." 
— Alfred Tennyson. 



EVERY DAY 



O trifling task so often done, 

Yet ever to be done anew! 
O cares which come with every sun, 

Mom after morn, the long years 
through! 
We sink beneath their paltry sway — 
The irksome calls of every day. 

The restless sense of wasted power, 
The tiresome round of little things. 

Are hard to bear, as hour by hour 
Its tedious iteration brings; 

Who shall evade or who delay 

The small demands of every day? 

The bowlder, in the torrent's course 
By tide and tempest lashed in vain. 

Obeys the wave-whirled pebble's force 
And yields its substance grain by 
grain; 

So crumble strongest lives away 
Beneath the wear of every day. 

Who finds the lion in his lair. 
Who tracks the tiger for his life 

May wound them ere they are aware. 
Or conquer them in desperate strife, 

Yet powerless he to scathe or slay 
The vexing gnats of every day. 

The steady strain that never stops 
Is mightier than the fiercest shock; 

The constant fall of water drops 
Will groove the adamantine rock; 

We feel our noblest powers decay 
In feeble wars with every day. 



We rise to meet a heavy blow — 
Our souls a sudden bravery fills — 

But we endure not always so 
The drop by drop of little ills ; 

We still deplore, and still obey. 
The hard behests of every day. 

The heart which boldly faces death 
Upon the battle-field, and dares 

Cannon and bayonet, faints beneath 
The needle-points of frets and cares; 

The stoutest spirits they dismay — 
The tiny stings of every day. 

And even saints of holy fame, 

Whose souls by faith have overcome. 

Who won amid the cruel flame 
The molten crown of martyrdom. 

Bore not without complaint alway 
The petty pains of every day. 

Ah, more than martyr's aureole, 
And more than hero's heart of fire, 

We need the humble strength of soul 
Which daily toils and ills require; 

Sweet Patience! grant us, if you may, 
An added grace for every day. 



PEACEABLE FRUIT 

(Heb. 12. II.) 

What shall thine "afterward" be, O 
Lord, 
For this dark and suffering night? 
Father, what shall thine "afterward" 

be? 
Hast thou a morning of joy for me. 
And a new and joyous light? 

What shall thine "afterward" be, O 

Lord, 

For the moan that I cannot stay? 

Shall it issue in some new song of praise, 

Sweeter than sorrowless heart could 

raise, 

When the night hath passed away? 

What shall thine "afterward" be, O 
Lord, 
For this helplessness of pain? 
A clearer view of my home above, 
Of my Father's strength and my Father's 
love — 
Shall this be my lasting gain? 



AFFLICTION 



153 



What shall thine "afterward" be, O 
Lord? 
How long must thy child endure? 
Thou knowest! 'Tis well that I know it 

not! 
Thine "afterward" cometh — I cannot 
tell what, 
But I know that thy word is sure. 

What shall thine "afterward" be, O 
Lord, 
I wonder — and wait to see 
(While to thy chastening hand I bow) 
What "peaceable fruit" may be ripen- 
ing now — 
Ripening fast for me! 

— Frances Ridley Havergal. 



HOW WE LEARN 

Great truths are dearly bought. The 
common truth, 
Such as men give and take from day 
to day, 
Comes in the common walk of easy life, 
Blown by the careless wind across our 
way. 

Great truths are greatly won, not found 
by chance, 
Nor wafted on the breath of summer 
dream ; 
But grasped in the great struggle of the 
soul 
Hard buffeting with adverse wind and 
stream. 

But in the day of conflict, fear and grief. 
When the strong hand of God, put 
forth in might. 
Plows up the subsoil of the stagnant 
heart 
And brings the imprisoned truth-seed 
to the light, 

Wrung from the troubled spirit in hard 
hours 
Of weakness, solitude, perchance of 
pain, 
Truth springs like harvest from the 
well-plowed field. 
And the soul feels it has not wept in 
vain. — Horatius Bonar. 



Though trouble-tossed and torture-torn 
The kingliest kings are crowned with 
thorn. — Gerald Massey. 



HEAVIER THE CROSS 

Heavier the cross the stronger faith : 
The loaded palm strikes deeper root; 

The vine-juice sweetly issueth 

When men have pressed the clustered 
fruit; 

And courage grows where dangers come 
Like pearls beneath the salt sea foam. 

Heavier the cross the heartier prayer; 

The bruised herbs most fragrant are; 
If sky and wind were always fair 

The sailor would not watch the star; 
And David's psalms had ne'er been sung 
If grief his heart had never wrung. 

Heavier the cross the more aspiring; 

From vales we climb to mountain's 
crest ; 
The pilgrim, of the desert tiring. 

Longs for the Canaan of his rest. 
The dove has here no rest in sight. 
And to the ark she wings her flight. 

Heavier the cross the easier dying; 

Death is a friendlier face to see; 
To life's decay one bids defying, 

From life's distress one then is free; 
The cross sublimely lifts our faith 
To him who triumphed over death. 

Thou Crucified! the cross I carry — 

The longer may it dearer be; 
And, lest I faint while here I tarry. 

Implant thou such a heart in me 
That faith, hope, love, may flourish 

there 
Till for the cross my crown I wear. 

— Benjamin Schmolke. 



LA ROCHELLE 

A worthy man of Paris town 
Came to the bishop there: 

His face, o'erclouded with dismay, 
Betrayed a fixed despair. 

"Father," said he, "a sinner vile 

Am I, against my will: 
Each hotu: I humbly pray for faith, 

But am a doubter still. 

"Sure were I not despised of God, 
He would not leave me so 

To struggle thus in constant strife 
Against the deadly foe." 



154 



AFFLICTION 



The bishop to his sorrowing son 

Thus spoke a kind relief: 
"The King of France has castles twain; 

To each he sends a chief. 

"There's Montelh^ry, far inland, 
That stands in place secure; 

While La Rochelle, upon the coast, 
Doth sieges oft endure. 

"Now for these castles — both" pre- 
served — 

First in his prince's love 
Shall Montelh('Ty's chief be placed, 

Or La Rochelle's above?" 

"Oh! doubtless, sire," the sinner said, 
"That king will love the most 

The man whose task was hard to keep 
His castle on the coast!" 

"Son," said the bishop, "thou art right; 

Apply this reasoning well: 
My heart is Montelh^ry fort, 

And thine is La Rochelle!" 



IF THOU COULD'ST KNOW 

I think, if thou could'st know, 
O soul, that will complain. 
What lies concealed below 

Our burden and our pain — 
How just our anguish brings 
Nearer those longed-for things 
We seek for now in vain — 
I think thou would'st rejoice and not 
complain. 

I think, if thou could'st see. 

With thy dim mortal sight. 
How meanings, dark to thee. 

Are shadows hiding light; 

Truth's efforts crossed and vexed. 

Life's purpose all perplexed — 

If thou could'st sec them right. 

I think that they would seem all clear, 

and wise, and bright. 

And yet thou can'st not know; 
And yet thou can'st not see; 
Wisdom and sight are slow 

In poor humanity. 
If thou could'st trust, poor soul. 
In him who rules the whole. 
Thou would'st find peace and rest: 
Wisdom and sight are well, but trust is 
best. 



MY CROSS 

"O Lord, my God!" I oft have said, 
' ' Had I some other cross instead 
Of this I bear from day to day, 
'Twere easier to go on my way. 

"I do not murmur at its weight; 
That Thou hast made proportionate 
To my scant strength; but oh! full sore 
It presses where it pressed before. 

"Change for a space, however brief. 
The wonted burden, that relief 
May o'er my aching shoulders steal. 
And the deep bruise have room to heal!" 

While thus I sadly sighed to-day 
I heard my gracious Father say, 
"Can'st thou not trust my love, my 

child. 
And to thy cross be reconciled? 

"I fashioned it thy needs to meet; 
Nor were thy discipline complete 
Without that very pain and bruise 
Which thy weak heart would fain re- 
fuse." 

Ashamed, I answered, "As Thou wilt! 
I own my faithlessness and guilt; 
Welcome the weary pain shall be. 
Since only that is best for me." 



GOD KNOWETH BEST 

He took them from me, one by one, 
The things I set my heart upon; 
They looked so harmless, fair, and blest; 
Would they have hurt me? God 

knows best. 
He loves me so, he would not wrest 
Them from me if it were not best. 

He took them from me, one by one. 
The friends I set my heart upon. 

did they come, they and their love, 
Between me and my Lord above? 
Were they as idols in my breast? 

It may be. God in heaven knows best. 

1 will not say I did not weep. 

As doth a child that wants to keep 
The pleasant things in hurtful play 
His wiser parent takes away; 
But in this comfort I will rest: 
He who hath taken knoweth best. 



AFFLICTION 



155 



THE ONLY SOLACE 

O Thou who driest the mourner's tear, 
How dark this world would be 

If, when deceived and wounded here, 
We could not fly to thcc! 

The friends who in our sunshine live 
When winter comes arc flown; 

And he who has but tears to give 
Must weep those tears alone. 

But Thou wilt heal that broken heart 
Which, like the plants that throw 

Their fragrance from the wounded part, 
Breathes sweetness out of woe. 

O who could bear life's stormy doom 

Did not Thy wing of love 
Come brightly wafting through the 
gloom 

Our peace-branch from above! 

Then sorrow, touched by Thee, grows 
bright 
With more than rapture's ray; 
As darkness shows us worlds of light 
We never saw by day. 

— Thomas Moore. 



CONSOLATION 

If none were sick and none were sad 

What service could we render? 
I think if we were always glad 

We scarcely could be tender. 
Did our beloved never need 

Our patient ministration 
Earth would grow cold, and miss indeed 

Its sweetest consolation. 
If sorrow never claimed our heart. 

And every wish were granted, 
Patience would die and hope depart — 

Life would be disenchanted. 



Banish far from mc all I love. 

The smiles of friends, the old fireside. 

And drive me to that home of homes. 
The heart of Jesus crucified. 

Take all the light away from earth. 
Take all that men can love from me ; 

Let all I lean upon give way, 

That I may lean on naught but Thee. 
— Frederick William Faber. 



PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERING 

God never would send you the darkness 

If he felt you could bear the light; 
But vou would not cling to his guiding 
hand 
If the way were always bright; 
And you would not care to walk by 
faith 
Could you always walk by sight. 

'Tis true he has many an anguish 
For your sorrowful heart to bear, 

And many a cruel thorn-crown 
For your tired head to wear: 

He knows how few would reach heaven 
at all 
If pain did not guide them there. 

So he sends you the blinding darkness, 
And the furnace of seven-fold heat. 

'Tis the only way, believe me. 
To keep you close to his feet, 

For 'tis always so easy to wander 
When our lives are glad and sweet. 

Then nestle your hand in your Father's 
And sing, if you can, as you go; 

Your song may cheer some one behind 
you 
Whose courage is sinking low. 

And — well — if your lips do quiver — 
God will love you better so. 



A LITTLE PARABLE 

I made the cross myself whose weight 

Was later laid on me. 
This thought is torture as I toil 

Up life's steep Calvary. 

To think mine own hands drove the 
nails! 

I sang a merry song. 
And chose the heaviest wood I had 

To build it firm and strong. 

If I had guessed — if I had dreamed — 
Its weight was meant for me, 

I should have made a lighter cross 
To bear up Calvary. 

— Anne Reeve Aldrich. 



The unpolished pearl can never shine — 
'Tis sorrow makes the soul divine. 
— From the Japanese, tr. by Frederic 
Rowland Marvin. 



156 



AFFLICTION 



THE SOWER 
I 

A Sower went iorth to sow; 

His eyes were dark willi woo; 

He crushed the llovvers beneath his feet, 

Nor smelt tlie i)erfinne, warm and sweet, 

That prayed for i)ity everywliere. 

Ho came to a field that was harried 

]?y iron, and to heaven laid hare; 

He shook the seed that he earried 

O'er that brown and bladeless place. 

He shook it, as (lod shakes hail 

Over a doomed land. 

When lij^htnin^s interlace 

The sky and the earth, and his wand 

Of love is a thunder-llail. 

Thus did that Sower smv; 

His seed was human blood, 

And tears of women and men. 

And I, who near him stood. 

Said: When the crop eomes, then 

There will bo sobbinp and sijjhinp, 

Weeping and wailing and crying, 

Flame, and ashes, and woe. 

II 

It was an autumn day 
When next I went that way. 
And what, thiidv vou, did 1 say, 
What was it that'l heard. 
What music was in the air? 
The song of a sweet-voiced bird? 
Nay — but the songs of many 
Thrilled through with praise and prayer. 
Of all those voices not any 
Were sad of memory; 
But a sea of simlight (lowed, 
A golden harvest glowed, 
And I s;ii(l. Thou only art wise, 
God of the earth and skies! 
And I praise thee, again and again. 
For the Sower whose name is Pain. 
— Richard Watson Gilder. 



Not disabled in the combat. 

No, nor ab.sent from your post; 

You arc doing gallant service 

Where the Master needs you most. 

It was noble to give battle 

While the world stood cheering on; 
It is nobler to lie patient, 

Leaving half one's work undone. 

And the King counts up his heroes 
Where the desperate charge was led, 

But he writes, "My Best BelovM," 
Over many a sick man's bed. 



I DO NOT ASK, O LORD 

I do not ask, O Lord, that life may be 

A ])leasant roail; 
I do not ask that thou wouldst take 
from me 

Aught of its load. 

I do not ask that flowers shoidd always 
siiring 

Beneath my feet; 
I know too well the ])oison and the sting 
Of things too sweet. 

For one thing only. Lord, dear Lord, I 
plead : 

Lead mo aright. 
Though strength should falter and 
though heart should blci'd. 
Through peace to light. 

I do not ask, O Lord, that thou shouldst 
shed 

Full radiance here; 
Give but a ray of peace, that I may tread 

Witlunit a fear. 

I do not ask my cross to understand. 

My way to see; 
Better in darkness just to feel thy hand. 

And follow Thee. 

Joy is like restless day; but peace divine 

Like quiet night. 
Lead me, O Lord, till perfect day shall 
shine 

Through jieacc to light. 
— Adelaide Anno I'rocter. 



ANGELS OP GRIEF 

With silence only as their benediction 

God's angels come, 
Where, in the shadow of a great afflic- 
tion. 

The soul sits dumb. 

Yet would we say, what every heart 
api)roveth. 

Our Father's will. 
Calling tt» him the dear ones whom he 
loveth, 

Is mercy still. 

Not upon lis or ours tlie solemn angel 

Hath evil wrought; 
The funeral anthem is a glad evangel — 

The good die not I 



AFFLICTION 



157 



God calls our loved ones, but we lose 
not wholly 

What he has given; 
They live on earth in thought and deed 
as truly 

As in his heaven. 
— ^John Greenlcaf Whitticr. 



FURNACE AND HAMMER 

Pain's furnace-heat within me (|uivcrs, 
God's breath upon the llame doth 
blow ; 

And all my heart in anguish shivers 
And trembles at the nery glow; 

And yet I whisper — "As God will!" 

And in his hottest fire stand still. 

He comes, and lays my heart, all heated, 
On the hard anvil, minded so 

Into his own fair shape to beat it 
With his great hammer, blow on blow ; 

And yet I whisper — "As God will!" 

And at his heaviest blows hold still. 

He takes my softened heart and beats it ; 

The sparks fly oflf at every blow; 
He turns it o'er and o'er and heats it, 

And lets it cool, and makes it glow; 
And yet I whisper — "As God will!" 
And in his mighty hand hold still. 

Why should I murmur? for the sorrow 
Thus only longer-lived would be; 

Its end may come, and will to-morrow, 
When God has done his work in me; 

So I say trusting — ".4.v God will!" 

And, trusting to the end, hold still. 
— ^Julius Sturm. 



WITH SELF DISSATISFIED 

Not when with self dissatisfied, 

O Lord, I lowly lie. 
So much I need thy grace to guide. 

And thy reproving eye, 

As when the sound of human praise 

Grows pleasant to my ear. 
And in its light my broken ways 

Fair and complete appear. 

By failure and defeat made wise, 
We come to know, at length, 

What strength within our weakness lies, 
What weakness in our strength; 



What inward peace is born of strife 
What power of being spent; 

V/hat wings unto our upwai'd life 
Is noble discontent. 

O Lord, we need thy shaming look 
That burns all low desire; 

The discipline of thy rebuke 
Shall be refining fire! 

— Frederick Lucian Hosmcr. 



TOO MUCH SELF 

Some evil upon Rabia fell; 
And one who loved and knew her well 
Murmured that God with pain undue 
Should strike a child so fond and true. 
But she replied, "Believe and trust 
That all I suffer is most just. 
I had, in contemplation, striven 
To realize the joys of heaven; 
I had extended! fancy's flights 
Through all that region of delights, 
Had counted, till the numbers failed, 
'I'hc pleasures on the blest entailed. 
Mad sounded the ecstatic rest 
1 should enjoy on Allah's breast — 
And for these thoughts I now atone; 
They were of something of my own. 
And were not thoughts of him alone." 
— From the Arabian. 



THE GAIN OF LOSS 

O thou so weary of thy self-denials. 
And so impatient of thy little cross, 

Is it so hard to bear thy daily trials, 
And count all earthly things a gainful 
loss? 

Canst thou forget thy Christian super- 
scription, 
" Behold, we count them happy which 
endure"? 
What treasure wouldst thou, in the land 
Egyptian, 
Repass the stormy water to secure? 

And wilt thou yield thy sure and glorious 

promise 
For the poor, fleeting joys earth can 

afford ? 
No hand can take away the treasttre 

from us 
That rests within the keeping of the 

Lord. 



158 



AFFLICTION 



A STRANGE BOON 

Oft when of God we ask 

For fuller, happier life, 
He sets us some new task 

Involvinjj care and strife; 
Is this the boon for which we sou};;ht? 
Has prayer new trouble on us brought? 

This is indeed the boon, 

Though strange to us it seems; 

We pierce the rock, and soon 
The blessing on us streams; 

For when we are the most athirst, 

Then the clear waters on us burst. 

We toil as in the field 

Wherein, to us imknown, 
A treasure lies concealed 

Which may be all ovtr own. 
And shall we of the toil complain 
That speedily will bring such gain? 

We dig the wells of life, 
And God the waters gives; 

We win our way by strife, 
Then he within us lives; 

And only war could make us meet 

For peace so sacred and so sweet. 

— Thomas Toke Lynch. 



STILL HOPE! STILL ACT! 

Still hope! still act! Be sure that life 
The source and strength of every good. 

Wastes down in feeling's empty strife, 
And dies in dreaming's sickly mood. 

To toil in tasks however mean 

For all we know of right and true — 

In this alone our worth is seen, 
'Tis this we were ordained to do. 

So shalt thou find, in work and thought: 
The peace that sorrow cannot give; 

Though grief's worst pangs to thee be 
taught, 
By thee let others nobler live. 

Oh, wait not in the darksome fai'est. 
Where thou must needs be left alone. 

But e'en when memory is sorest. 
Seek out a path and. journey on I 

Thou wilt have angels near above 
By whom invisible aid is given; 

They journey still on tasks of love. 
And never rest except in heaven. 
— John Sterling. 



THEY SHALL NOT OVERFLOW 

In the floods of tribulation. 
While the billows o'er me roll, 

Jesus whisj5crs consolation 

And supports my fainting soul; 

Sweet affliction 
That brings Jesus to my soul. 

Thus the lion yields me honey. 
From the eater food is given; 

Strengthened thus I still press forward, 
Singing on my way to heaven. 

Sweet affliction, 
Helping speed me on to heaven. 

So in darkest dispensations 

Doth my faithful Lord appear, 

With his richest consolations 
To reanimate and cheer; 

Sweet affliction. 
Thus to bring my Saviour near. 

Floods of tribulation heighten, 
Billows still around me roar; 
Those who know not Christ they 
frighten ; 
But my soul defies their power: 

Sweet afiliction. 
Thus to bring my Saviour near. 

In the sacred page recorded. 

Thus His word securely stands; 
"Fear not; I'm, in trouble, near thee. 
Naught shall pluck thee from my 
hands." 

Sweet af!^liction. 
Every word my love demands. 

All I meet, I find, assists me 
In my path to heavenly joy, 

Where, though trials now attend me, 
Trials never more annoy. 

Sweet afiliction. 
Every promise gives me joy. 

Wearing there a weight of glory. 

Still the path I'll ne'er forget, 
But, exulting, cry it led me 
To my blessed Saviour's seat; 

Sweet afiliction. 
Which hath brought me to his feet. 
— Pearce. 



Glory to God — to God! he saith. 
Knowledge by suffering entereth. 
And life is perfected by death. 
. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



AFFLICTION 



159 



HIS WAYS 

I asked for grace to lift me high, 
Above the world's depressing cares. 

God sent me sorrows, — with a sigh 
I said, He has not heard my prayers. 

I asked for light, that I might see 
My path along life's thorny road; 

But clouds and darkness shadowed me 
When I expected light from God. 

I asked for peace, that I might rest 
To think my sacred duties o'er. 

When lo! such horrors filled my breast 
As I had never felt before. 

And O, I cried, can this be prayer 
Whose plaints the steadfast mountains 
move? 

Can this be heaven's prevailing care? 
And, O my God, is this thy love? 

But soon I found that sorrow, worn 
As duty's garment, strength supplies. 

And out of darkness meekly borne 
Unto the righteous light doth rise. 

And soon I found that fears which 
stirred 

My startled soul God's will to do, 
On me more real peace conferred 

Than in life's calm I ever knew. 

Then, Lord, in thy mysterious ways 
Lead my dependent spirit on. 

And whensoe'er it kneels and prays, 
Teach it to say, "Thy will be done!" 

Let its one thought, one hope, one 
prayer. 
Thine image seek, thy glory see ; 
Let every other wish and care 
Be left confidingly to thee. 

— ^John Samuel Bewley Monscll. 



COMPENSATION 

Not in each shell the diver brings to air 

Is found the priceless pearl, but only 
where 

Mangled, and torn, and bruised well- 
nigh to death. 

The wounded oyster draws its laboring 
breath. 

O tired and suffering soul! gauge here 
your gain; 

The pearl of patience is the fruit of pain. 
— Caroline Athcrton Mason. 



THE DARK ANGEL 

Count each affliction, whether light or 
grave, 
God's messenger sent down to thee. 

Do thou 
With courtesy receive him, rise and 
bow. 
And, ere his shadow pass thy threshold, 

crave 
Permission first his heavenly feet to lave. 
Then lay before him all thou hast. 

Allow 
No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow 
Or mar thy hospitality; no wave 
Of mortal tumult to obliterate 

Thy soul's marmoreal calmness. Grief 
should be. 
Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate; 
Confirming, cleansing, raising, making 
free; 
Strong to consume small troubles, to 

commend 
Great thoughts, grave thoughts, 
thoughts lasting to the end. 

— Aubrey Thomas De Vera. 



SONG— SERMON 

Lord, what is man. 
That thou art mindful of him? 
Though in creation's van. 
Lord, what is man? 
He wills less than he can. 
Lets his ideal scoff him! 
Lord, what is man. 
That thou art mindful of him? 
— George Macdonald. 



Lord, shall we grumble when thy flames 
do scourge us? 

Our sins breathe fire; thy fire returns to 
purge us. 

Lord, what an alchemist art thou, whose 
skill 

Transmutes to perfect good from per- 
fect ill! — Francis Quarles. 



The path of sorrow, and that path alone. 

Leads to the land where sorrow is un- 
known ; 

No traveler e'er reached that blest 
abode 

Who foimd not thorns and briers in his 
road. — William Cowper. 



i6o 



AFFLICTION 



TAKE AWAY PAIN 

Thi> cry of man's anj^uish wi-iit up unto 
Cod: 

"Lord, tako away ])ain- 
'I'hi' shadow that darkens the world tlioii 
bust mtide, 

The closc-coiUn)^ i haiii 
Tlialstran);k>s the heart, the hiinlcii that 
wfij^hs 

On the winj^s (hat. would soiir — 
Lord, take away pain from (ho wan'ld 
thou liast made. 

That it love thee the n\orel" 

Then answered the Lord to the ery of 
his workL 

"Shall 1 take away i)ain 
And with it thei)owerof the soul (o ei\- 
dure. 

Made strong by the strain? 
Shall I take away pity, that knits heart 
to bi-art. 

And saeriliee hixh? 
Will ye lose all your ln-roes (hat lilt 
from till' lire 

White brows to the sky? 
Shall I take away l(Jve, that redeems 
with a. ])riee 

And smiles at its loss? 
Can ye spare from your lives, that 
would elimh imto mine. 
The Christ on his cross?" 



'Tis not alone in (he smishine 
Our lives ^row pine and (rue; 

There is growth as well in the shadow, 
And pain has a work to do. 

So it comes to me more and more 
As I enter iijum each new day: 

Tlu> love of (he I'^ither eternal 
Is over us all the way. 



"In pastures jjreen"? Not always; 

somelimrs lu' 
Who knoweth best in kindness leadeth 

me 
In weary ways where heavy shadows be. 

But where lie leads me I can safely 

po. 
And in (he blest' hereafter 1 shall know 
Why in his wisdom he hath Kid me so. 



A SONG OF SOLACE 

Thou sweet hand (^f God, (hat so 

womidest my heart. 
Thou makest me smile while thou 

mak'st me to smart; 
It si-ems as if God were at ball-play; 

and I, 
The harder he strikes nie the higher I fly. 

1 own it, he bruises, he pierces mc sore; 
Hut the hamnu'r and chisel afllict mc 

no more. 
Shall I tell you the reason? It is (hat I 

see 
The Sculptor will carve out an an};el for 

me. 

I shrink from no suffering, how jtainfid 

soe'er, 
When once 1 can feel (lia( my Cod's hand 

is there; 
I"'or soft on the anvil the iron shall ^low 
When the Smith with his hannner ilcals 

blow u])on blow. 

Cod presses me hard, but he gives 

patii'uee, too! 
And 1 say tt) myself, " 'Tis no more than 

my due," 
And no tone frf)m the organ can swell 

on the breeze 
Till the organist's lingers press down on 

the keys. 

So c(^me, then, and welcome (he blow 

and the ])ain! 
Without (hem no morta.1 to heaven can 

attain; 
l''or what can the sheaves on the barn 

lloor a\'ail 
Till the thresher shall beat out (he chaff 

with his (lail? 

"Pis only a moment Cod chastens with 



|)ain; 
fol 



Joy follows on sorrow like sunshine on 
rain. 

Then bear thou what God on thy spirit 
shall lay; 

Be dumb; but, when tempti-d to mur- 
mur, then iirav. 

— I''rom the (K>rman. 



When thou hast thanked thy God for 
every blessing sent, 

What time will (hen remain for mur- 
murs or lament? 



AFFLICTION 



i6i 



We must live through the weary winter 

If we would value the spring; 
And the woods must be cold and silent 

Before the robins sing. 
The flowers must lie buried in darkness 

Before they can bud and l)loom; 
And the sweetest and warmest sunsliine 

Comes after the storm and gloom. 
— Agnes L. Pratt. 



We look along the shining ways, 

To see the angel faces; 
They come to us in dai'kest days 

And in the blackest places. 
The strongest hearts have strongest 
need, 

To them the liery trial; 
Who walks a saint in word and deed 

Is saint by self-denial. 



Is it true, O Christ in heaven. 

That the strongest suffer most, 
That the wisest wander farthest, 

And most hopelessly are lost? 
That the mark of rank in nature 

Is capacity for i)ain. 
That the anguish of the singer 

Makes the sweetness of the strain? 



O, block by block, with sore and sharp 

endeavor. 
Lifelong we build these human natures 
up 
Into a temjjle fit for freedom's .shrine. 
And trial ever consecrates the cuj). 
Whcrefrom we ])()ur her sacrificial 
wine. — James Russell Lowell. 



But all God's angels come to us dis- 
guised ; 
Sorrow and sickness, poverty and death. 
One after other lift their frowning masks. 
And we behold the serai>h's face beneath 
All radiant with the glory and the calm 
Of having looked upon the front of God. 
— ^James Russell Lowell. 



The man whom God delights to bless 
He never curses with sviccess. 
Thrice happy loss which makes me see 
My happiness is all in thee. 

— Charles Wesley. 



Who ne'er has suflered, he has lived but 
half. 
Who never failed, he never strove or 
sought. 
Who never wept is stranger to a laugh 
And he who never doubted never 
thought. — J. B. Goode. 



I thank thee. Lord, that all my joy 

Is touched with pain; 
That shadows fall on brightest hours; 

That thorns remain ; 
So that earth's bliss may be my guide, 

And not my chain. 



Would 'st thou from sorrow find a sweet 
relief? 
Or is thy heart oppressed with woes 
untold? 
Balm would'stthou gather for corroding 
grief? 
Pour blessings round thee like a 
shower of gold . 



Art thou weary, tender heart? 

Be glad of pain; 
In sorrow sweetest things will grow 

As flowers in rain. 
God watches; and thou wilt have sun 
When clouds their perfect work have 
done, — Lucy Larcom. 



'Tis sorrow builds the shining ladder up, 
Whose golden rounds are our calamities 
Whereon our firm feet planting nearer 

God 
The spirit climbs, and hath its eyes un- 
sealed. — James Russell Lowell. 



In the ])leasant orchard closes, 
"God bless all our gains," say we; 

But "May God bless all our losses," 
Better suits with our degree. 

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



Our toil is sweet with thankfulness. 
Our burden is our boon ; 
The curse of earth's gray morning is 
The blessing of its noon. 

— John Greenleaf Whittier. 



i6a 



AFFLICTION 



I hold it true. whatcVr bcfiill, 
1 fc'i'l it, vvhcti 1 sorrow most; 
'Tis hrttcr (o havr loved iiiul lost 

Than never to liiiv<" loved id idl. 
— Allied '1 Viiiiysoti. 



'rii(> fouiitiiin of joy is fed by iears, 
And love is lit liy (he hreatli of sij^hs; 

The dc-epesl f^riefs and the wildest. fears 
Have holiest ministries. 

— Jusiah Gilbert lluUaml. 



1 held it truth, witli him who sinj^s 
To on(> elear harj) in divers (ones 
'i'hat men may rist> on stei)|)inj; stones 

Of their deail sc'lves to hij^her tliin^^s. 
— Alfred Tennyson. 



When (lod allliets thee, thiidc he hews 

a niji);ed stone, 
Wliieli must b<" shaped or else aside as 

useless thrown. 

— Kiehard (Mu-nevix 'I'reneh. 



My sorrows have not been so light 
'lliy (hasteninj; hand 1 eould »iot traee, 

Nor hav«' my blessinj^s iteen so ).;reat 
That they have hid my I'^ither's face. 



Put pain from out the world, what room 

were left 
I"\)r thanks to (iod, for love to man? 
— Robert Urownin^,'. 



Heaven is not always an).;ry when he 

strikes, 
Hut most chastises thos<' whom most he 

likes. — fohn I'omfret. 



The good atx« better made by ill, 
As odors crushed are sweeter s(ill. 
— Samuel Rogers. 



Only (hoS(> are erowned and sainted 
Who with grief have lieen aecinainted. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



LOVE 

DIVINE GOODNESS, UNSELFISHNESS 



LOVE'S FULFILLING 

O Love is weak 
Which counts the answers and the gains, 
Weighs all the losses and the pains, 
And eagerlj^ each fond word drains 

A joy to seek. 

When Love is strong 
It never tarries to take heed, 
Or know if its return exceed 
Its gifts; in its sweet haste no greed, 

No strifes belong. 

It hardly asks 
If it be loved at all; to take 
So barren seems, when it can make 
Such bliss, for the beloved's sake, 

Of bitter tasks. 

Its ecstacy 
Could find hard death so beauteous, 
It sees through tears how Christ loved 

us, 
And speaks, in saying "I love thus," 

No blasphemy. 

So much we miss 
If love is weak, so much we gain 
If love is strong, Cod thinks no pain 
Too sharp or lasting to ordain 

To teach us this. 

— Helen Hunt Jackson. 



LOVE 



y 



If suddenly upon the street 
My gracious Saviour I should meet. 
And he should say, "As I love thee, 
What love hast thou to offer me?" 
Then what could this poor heart of mine 
Dare offer to that heart divine? 

His eve would pierce my outward show, 
His thought my inmost thovight would 
know; 



And if I said, "I love thee. Lord," 
He would not heed my sjjoken word, 
Because my daily life would tell 
If verily I loved him well. 

If on the day or in the place 
Wherein he met me face to face 
My life could .show some kindness d(ine. 
Some purjjose formed, some work begun, 
For his dear sake, then, it were meet 
Love's gift to lay at Jesus' feet. 

— Charles Francis Richardson. 



THE COMMON OFFERING 

It is not the deed we do^ 

'J'ho' the deed be never so fair — 

But the love that the dear Lord looketh 
for 
Hidden with holy care 
In the heart of the deed so fair. 

The love is the priceless thing, 

The treasure our treasure must hold 

Or ever our Lord will take the gift. 
Or tell the worth of the gold 
By the love that cannot be told. 

Behold us — the rich and the poor — 
Dear Lord, in thy service draw near; 

One consecrate th a precious coin. 
One droppeth only a tear; 
Look, Master, the love is here! 

— Harriet McEwen Kimball. 



163 



True love shall trust, but selfish love 
mu.st die. 
For trust is peace, and self is full of 
pain; 
Arise and heal thy brother's grief; his 
tears 
Shall wash thy love, and it will live 
again. — John Boyle O'Reilly. 



164 



LOVE 



EXPECTING AND KNOWING 

Faith, Hope and Love were questioned 
what they thought 

Of future glor)A which religion taught; 

Now Faith believed it to be firmly true, 

And Hope expected so to find it too; 

Love answered, smiling with uncon- 
scious glow, 

*' Believe? expect? I know it to be so." 
— ^John Weslpy. 



THE LOVE OF GOD 



/ 



Could we with ink the ocean fill. 

Were the whole world of parchment 
made. 
Were every single stick a quill, 

Were every man a scribe by trade; 
To write the love of God alone 

Would drain the ocean dry; 
Nor could the scroll contain the whole 

Though stretched from sky to sky. 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD 

I say to thee — do thou repeat 

To the first man thou mayest meet 
In lane, highway, or open street — 

That he, and we, and all men move 

Under a canopy of love 
As broad as the blue sky above; 

That doubt and trouble, fear and pain 

And anguish, all are shadows vain; 
That death itself shall not remain; 

That weary deserts we may tread, 
A dreary labyrinth may thread, 
Through dark ways under ground be led. 

Yet, if we will our Guide obey, 

The dreariest path, the darkest way, 
Shall issue out in heavenly day. 

And we, on divers shores now cast, 

Shall meet, our perilous voyage past. 
All in our Father's house at last. 

And, ere thou leave him, say thou this 
Yet one word more: They only miss 
The winning of that final bliss 

Who will not count it true that love, 
Blessing, not cursing, rules above. 
And that in it we live and move. 



And one thing further make him know : 

That to believe these things are so, 
This finn faith never to forego, 

Despite of all that seems at strife 

With blessing, all with curses rife, 
That this is blessing, this is life. 

— Richard Chenevix Trench. 



GOD'S ALL-EMBRACING LOVE 

Thou grace divine, encircling all, 

A soundless, shoreless sea 
Wherein at last our souls shall fall; 

O love of God most free, 

When over dizzy steeps we go 
One soft hand blinds our eyes, 

The other leads us, safe and slow, 
O love of God, most wise I 

And though we turn us from thy face. 
And wander wide and long, 

Thou hold'st vts still in thine embrace, 
O love of God most strong I 

The saddened heart, the restless soul, 
The toil-worn frame and mind, 

Alike confess thy sweet control, 
O love of God most kind I 

But not alone thy care we claim 
Our wayward steps to win; 

We know thee by a dearer name, 
O love of God, within 1 

And filled and quickened by thy breath 
Our souls are strong and free 

To rise o'er sin, and icar, and death, 
O love of God, to thee! 

— Eliza Scudder. 



Ah, how skillful grows the hand 
That obeyeth Love's command! 
It is the heart, and not the brain. 
That to the highest doth attain. 
And he who followcth Love's behest 
Far excelleth all the rest. 

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



If I truly love the One 
All the loves are mine; 

Alien to my heart is none 
And life grows divine. 



LOVE 



165 



GOD'S MERCY 

There's a widencss in God's mercy 

Like the wick'iu-ss of the sea; 
There's a kindness in his justice 

Wliieh is more than hberty. 
There is welcomi' for th«' sinner, 

And more j^M'aces for the yood; 
There is mercy with the Saviour; 

There is heahng in his blood. 

There is no i)lace where earth's sorrows 

Are more felt than up in heaven; 
There is no place where earth's failinj^^s 

Have such kindly judj^ment },Mven. 
There is plentiful redemption 

In the blood that has been shed ; 
There is joy for all the members 

In the sorrows of the Head. 

For the love of God is broader 

Than the measure of man's mind, 
And the heart of the Kli-rnal 

Is most wonderfully kind. 
If our love were but more simple, 

We should take him at his word. 
And our lives would be all stmshine 

In the sweetness of oiu" Lord. 

— Frederick William Faber. 



THE LOVE THA'I^ PASSETII 
KNOWLEDGE 

Not what I am, O Lord, but what thou 
art, 
That, that alone, can be my soul's 
true rest; 
Thy love, not mine, bids fear and doubt 
depart, 
And stills the tempest of my tossinj.,' 
breast. 

It is thy perf(?ct love that casts out fear; 
I know the voice that si)eaks the "It 
is I." 
And in these well-known words of 
heavenly cheer 
I hear the joy that bids each sorrow 

fly. 

Thy name is Love I I hear it from the 
Cross ; 
Thy name is Love! I read it in yon 
tomb ; 
All meaner love is perishable dross, 
But this shall li^ht me through time's 
thickest gloom. 



It blesses now, and shall forever bless; 

It saves mc now, and shall forever 

save; 

It holds me up in days of helplessness, 

It bears me safely o'er each swelling 

wave. 

Girt with the love of God on every side. 

Breathing that love as heavens own 

liealing air, 

I work or wait, still following my Guide, 

Hraving each foe, escaping every 

snare. 

'Tis what I know t)f thee my Lord and 
God, 
That fills my soul with peace, my lips 
with song; 
Thou art my health, jiiy joy, my stall, 
my rod. 
Leaning on thee, in weakness 1 am 
strong. 

I am all want and hunger; this faint 
heart 
Pines for a fullness which it finds n<Jt 
here. 
Dear <mes are leaving, and iis they de- 
l)art. 
Make room within for som<'thing yet 
more dear. 

More of thyself, oh, show me hour by 
hour 
More of thy glory, O my (Jod and 
Lord I 
More of thy.sclf in all thy grace and 
power 
More of thy love and truth, Incarnate 
Word. 



Love that asketh love again 
F'inds the barter naught but pain; 
Love that giveth in full store, 
Aye receives as much, and more. 

Love, exacting nothing back, 
Never knoweth any lack; 
Love, c(>nij)clling love to pay, 
Sees him bankrupt «'very day. 

— Dinah Maria Mulock Craik. 



Such power there is in clear-eyed self- 
restraint 

And purjjose clean as light from every 
selfish taint. 

— ^James Russell Lowell. 



i66 



LOVE 



HIS BANNKR OVER ME 

Svirroundod by luuuimluMvd foos, 
Against my soul tlio battle goes! 
Yet, though I weary, sore distrest, 
I know that I sliall reach my rest. 
I lift my tearful eyes above; 
His banner over me is love. 

Its sword jny spirit will not yield, 
Though llesh may faint upon the held; 
He waves before my failing sight - 
The branch of i)alm — the crown of light 
I Hft my brightening eyes above, 
His banner over me is love. 

My cloud of battle-dust may dim, 
His veil of s]>lcndor curtain him. 
And in the midnight of my fear 
I may not feel liim standing near; 
But, as I lift mine eyes above, 
His banner over me is love. 

— Geralil Massey. 



THE SPILT PEARLS 

His courtiers of the caliph crave: 
"O say how this may be. 

That of thy slaves this Kthiop slave 
Is best beloved by thee? 

" For he is hideous as the night : 

Yet when has ever chose 
A nightingale for its delight 

A hueless, scentless rose? " 

The caliph then: "No featun\s fair, 

No comely mien are his; 
Love is the Ix'auty he doth wear; 

And love his glory is. 

"Once when a camel of my train 
'I'here fell, in narrow street, 

From broken casket rolled amain 
Rich i)earls before my feet. 

" I nodding to my slaves that I 
Would freely give them these. 

At once u])on the spoil they lly 
The costly boon to seize. 

"One only at my side remained — 

Beside this Kthiop none; 
He, moveless as the steed he reined. 

Behind me sat alone. 

"'What will thy gain, good fellow, be. 
Thus lingering at mv side?' 

•My king, that t shall faithfully 
Have guarded thee,' he cried. 



"True servant's title he may wear. 

He only, who has not. 
For his U^-d's gifts, how rich soe'er, 

His lord himself forgot!" 

So thou alone dost walk before 

Thy God with perfect aim. 
From him desiring nothing more 

Beside himself to claim. 

l-'or if thou not to him aspire, 

But \o his gifts alone, 
Not love, but covetous desire. 

Has brought thee to his throne. 

While such thy jirayer; it climbs above 

In vain — the golden key 
Of (mkI's rich treasmv-house of love 
'I'hiiie own will never be. 

— Saadi, tr. by Richard (.'henevix 
Trench. 



THE HIGHER PRIVILEGE 

For some the narrow lane of "must," 
Be mine the big, broad "may"; 

Better to love — be happy — trust, 
'IMian simply to obey. 

tn>ubled over many things, 
Choose thou the better jiart : 

Service unconscious of itself. 
And child likeness of heart. 

Why cast your burden on the Lord 

And strive to drag it, too? 
Call work an o]>portunity 

Till it grows joy to you. 

"Ought" is a servant's work, not mine; 
I sign no grudging ]>ledge; 

1 am a child and son; my toil 

Is only jtrivilege. 

Who'd be a thrall to vain debates 
Of "were this right or wrong," 

When he might toss these cares to God 
And catch instead a song! 

Why breathe earth's heavy atmosphere, 

Forgetftil we can fly. 
When the high zenith, "God is Love," 

Allures us to the sky? 

The virtues hide their vanquished lires 

Within that whiter flame, 
Till conscience grows irrelevant. 

Anil duty but a name! 

— Frederic Lawrence Knowles, 



LOVE 



167 



Till!: WIDOW'S OIL 
2 Kings 4. 1-6 

Pour forth (ho oil, pour boldly forth, 

It will not fail until 
Thuu failest vessels to provide 

Which it may freely lill. 

But then, when such are foiuul no nitire, 
Though flowing broud atul free 

Till then, and nourished from on high, 
It straightway stanched will be. 

Dig channels for the streams of love. 
Where they may broadly run; 

And love has overflowing streams 
To lill them every one. 

But if at any time thou cease 

Such channels to jjrovide, 
The very founts of love for thee 

Will soon be parched and dried. 

For wc must share, if we would keep. 
That good thing fi'om above; 

Ceasing to give, we cease to have; 
Such is the law of love. 

— Richard Chenevix Trench. 



ONLY LOVE 



Lord and Father, great and holy I 

Fearing naught, we come to thee; 
Fearing naught, though weak and lowly, 

I'\)r thy lov(' lias made us fri'c. 
By the blue slcy bending o'er us. 

By the green earth's ilowery zone, 
Teach us, Lord, the angel chorus, 

"Thou art Love, and Love alonel" 

Though the worlds in (lame should 
perish, 
Suns and stars in ruin fall, 
Trust in thee our liearts should eherisli, 

Thou to us l)e all in all. 
And though heavens thy name arc- 
praising, 
Seraphs hymn no sweeter tone 
Than the strains our hearts are raising, 
"Thou art Love, and Love alone!" 
— Frederic William Farrar. 



That love for one from which there dfilli 

not spring 
Wide love for all is but a worthless thing. 
— ^James Russell Lowell. 



JOHN AND JESUS 

A voice by Jordan's shore! 

A summons stern and clear: 
Rt'fonn! be just! and sin no morel 

(lod's judgment draweth near! 

A voice by Galilee, 

A holier voice I h(>ar; 
Love (JodI thy ni'ighl)or love! for, see, 

(lotl's mercy draweth near! 

O voice of Duty, still 

Speak forth; 1 lu-ar with awe. 
In thee I own the sovereign will, 

Obey the sovereign law. 

'i'hou higher voice of Lovid 
Yet speak thy word in me; 

Through Duty li't me upward move 
To thy pure liberty! 

— Samuel Longfellow. 



WHAT REDRESS? 

I pray you, do not use this thing 
l'\)r vengeance; but if questioning 
What wcjund, when dealt your human- 
kind, 
(Iocs dee|)est — surely he shall lind 
Who wrongs you, loving hint no less — 
There's nothing hurts like ti'nderness. 
— ^James Whitcomb Riley. 



FORGIVENESS 

When on the fragrant sandal-treo 

The woodman's a.\e descends. 
And s1k> who bkxmied so beauteously 

Beneath the keen stroke bends, 
IC'eii on the edge that wrought her death 
Dying she breathed her sweetest breath, 
As if to token, in her fall. 
Peace to her foes, and love to all. 

How hardly man this lesson learns, 

'i\) smile, arid bless the hand that spurns; 

'IV) see the blow, to feel the jxiin. 

Hut render only love again! 

This sjiirit not to earth is given — 

Onh had it, but he came from heaven. 

Reviled, rejected, and betrayed. 

No ciu'se he breathed, no plaint he made. 

Hut when in death's deej) pang he sighed 

Prayed for his murderers, and died. 



i68 



LOVE 



LOVE COUNTETH NOT THE COST 

There is an ancient story, simply told, 
As ever were the holy things of old, 
Of one who served through many a toil- 
ing year 
To earn at last the joy he held most 

dear; 
A weary term, to others strangely lost. 
What mattered it? Love counteth not 
the cost. •- 

Yet not alone beneath far Eastern skies 
The faithful life hath, patient, won its 

prize; 
Whenever hearts beat high and brave 

hopes swell 
The soul, some Rachel waits beside the 

well ; 
For her the load is borne, the desert 

crossed. 
What matters it ? Love coimteth not the 

cost. 

This then of man — and what, dear Lord, 
of thee. 

Bowed in the midnight of Gethscmane — 

Come from those regions infinite with 
peace. 

To bviy with such a price the world's 
release? 

Thy voice descends, through ages tem- 
pest-tossed, 

"What matters it? Love counteth not 
the cost." 

O Christ, Redeemer, Master! I who stand 
Beneath the pressure of thy gracious 

hand — 
What is the service thou wouldst have 

from me? 
What is the burden to be borne for thee ? 
I, too, would say, thovigh care and fear 

exhaust, 
"What matters it? Love counteth not 

the cost." 



LOVE OP HOME 

Thy voice is heard through rolling drums 

That beat to battle where he stands; 
Thy face across his fancy comes. 

And gives the battle to his hands. 
A moment, while the trumpets blow, 

He sees his brood about thy knee ; 
The next, like fire he meets the foe. 

And strikes him dead for thine and 
thee. — Alfred Tennyson. 



BE KIND TO THYSELF 

Comes a message from above — 
"As thyself thy neighbor love." 
With myself so vexed I grow — 
Of my weakness weary so; 
Easier may I tolerate 
My neighbor than myself not hate. 

Take not part of thee for whole; 
Thou art neighbor to thy soul; 
The ray from heaven that gilds the clod 
Love thou, for it comes from God. 
Bear thou with thy human clay, 
Lest thou miss the heaven-sent ray. 
— Edward Sandford Martin. 



LOVE AND LIGHT 

Through love to light! oh wonderful the 

way 
That leads from darkness to the perfect 

day! 
From darkness and from sorrow of the 

night 
To morning that comes singing o'er the 

sea. 
Through love to light! Through light, 

O God, to thee. 
Who art the love of love, the eternal 

light of light. 

— Richard Watson Gilder. 



SYMPATHETIC LOVE 

O Love divine, that stooped to share 
Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear! 

On thee we cast each earthbom care ; 
We smile at pain while thou art near. 

Though long the weary way we tread. 
And sorrow crown each lingering year, 

No path we shun, no darkness dread, 
Our hearts still whispering, "Thou art 
near! " 

When drooping pleasure turns to grief 
And trembling faith is changed to fear, 

The murmuring wind, the quivering leaf, 
Shall softly tell us, "Thou art near!" 

On thee we fling our burdening woe, 
O Love divine, forever dear; 

Content to suffer while we know. 
Living and dying, thou art near! 
— Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



LOVE 



169 



Love took up the glass of Time, and 

turned it in his glowing hands; 
Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself 

in golden sands. 
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote 

on all the chords with might; 
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, 

passed in music out of sight. 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



For, lo! in hidden deep accord 
The servant may be like his Lord. 
And thy love, our love shining through. 
May tell the world that thou art true, 
Till those who see us see thee too. 

— Anna Letitia Waring. 



Who loves, no law can ever bind; 

He'd cleave to God as well 
Were there no golden heaven's reward. 

And no dark cave of hell. 

— Scheflfler, tr. by Frederic Rowland 
Marvin. 



To halls of heavenly truth admission 

wouldst thou win? 
Oft knowledge stands without, while 

Love may enter in. 

— Richard Chenevix Trench. 



For others' sake to make life sweet 
Though thorns may pierce your weary 

feet; 
For others' sake to walk each day 
As if joy helped you all the way. 
While in the heart may be a grave 
That makes it hard to be so brave. 
Herein, I think, is love. 



Talk not of wasted affection, affection 

never was wasted; 
If it enrich not the heart of another, its 

waters, returning 
Back to their springs, like the rain, shall 

fill them full of refreshment. 

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



Ah, yes! I would a phoenix be, 
And bum my heart in Deity! 
Then I should dwell by his dear side. 
And in the self of God abide. 
— SchefHer, tr. by Frederic Rowland 
Marvin. 



The man is happy. Lord, who love like 

this doth owe : 
Loves thee, his friend in thee, and, for 
thy sake, his foe. 

— Richard Chenevix Trench. 



HOPE 

PROGRESS, OPTIMISM, ENTHUSIASM 



THE PROMISED LAND- 
TO-MORROW 

High hopes that burned like stars sub- 
lime 

Go down the heavens of freedom, 
And true hearts perish in the time 

We bitterliest need them; 
But never sit we down and say, 

There's nothing left but sorrow — 
We walk the wilderness to-day, 

The Promised Land to-morrow. 

Our birds of song are silent now, 

There are no flowers blooming, 
But life beats in the frozen bough 

And freedom's spring is coming. 
And freedom's tide comes up alway 

Though we may stand in sorrow; 
And our good bark, aground to-day, 

Shall float again to-morrow. 

Though hearts brood o'er the past, our 
eyes 

With shining futures glisten; 
Lo! now the dawn bursts up the skies: 

Lean out your souls and listen! 
The earth rolls freedom's radiant way, 

And ripens with her sorrow; 
And 'tis the martyrdom to-day 

Brings victory to-morrow. 

Through all the long night of the years 

The people's cry ascended; 
The earth was wet with blood and tears 

Ere their meek sufferings ended. 
The few shall not forever sway, 

The many toil in sorrow. 
The bars of hell are strong to-day 

But Christ shall rise to-morrow. 

*Tis weary watching wave on wave. 

But still the tide heaves onward; 
We climb like corals, grave on grave. 

But build a pathway sunward; 
We're beaten back in many a fray. 

But strength divine will borrow — 
And where our' vanguard rests to-day 

Our rear shall march to-morrow. 



Then, Youth! flame-earnest, still aspire, 

With energies immortal. 
To many a haven of desire 

Your yearning opes a portal. 
And though age wearies by the way, 

And hearts break in the furrow, 
We sow the golden grain to-day — 

The harvest comes to-morrow. 

— Gerald Massey. 



THE RIGHT MUST WIN 

O it is hard to work for God, 

To rise and take his part 
Upon this battle-field of earth. 

And not sometimes lose heart! 

He hides himself so wondrously. 
As though there were no God; 

He is least seen when all the powers 
Of ill are most abroad. 

Or He deserts us at the hour 

The fight is all but lost; 
And seems to leave us to ourselves 

Just when we need him most. 

Yes, there is less to try our faith, 

In our mysterious creed. 
Than in the godless look of earth 

In these our hours of need. 

Ill masters good, good seems to change 

To ill with greatest ease; 
And, worst of all, the good with good 

Is at cross purposes. 

It is not so, but so it looks. 

And we lose courage then; 
And doubts will come if God hath kept 

His promises to men. 

Ah! God is other than we think; 

His ways are far above; 
Far beyond reason's height, and reached 

Only by childlike love. 

The look, the fashion, of God's ways 

Love's lifelong study are; 
She can be bold, and guess, and act 

When reason would not dare. 



170 



HOPE 



171 



She has a prudence of her own; 

Her step is firm and free. 
Yet there is cautious science, too 

In her simphcity. 

Workman of God! oh, lose not heart, 
But learn what God is like, 

And in the darkest battle-field. 
Thou shalt know where to strike. 

Thrice blest is he to whom is given 

The instinct that can tell 
That God is on the field when he 

Is most invisible, ^ 

Blest, too, is he who can divine 

Where real right doth lie. 
And dares to take the side that seems 

Wrong to man's blindfold eye. 

Then learn to scorn the praise of men 
And learn to lose with God; 

For Jesus won the world through shame 
And beckons thee his road. 

God's glory is a wondrous thing, 
Most strange in all its ways. 

And, of all things on earth, least like 
What men agree to praise. 

God's justice is a bed where we 
Our anxious hearts may lay. 

And, weary with ourselves, may sleep 
Our discontent away. 

For right is right, since God is God, 
And right the day must win ; 

To doubt would be disloyalty. 
To falter would be sin. 

— Frederick William Faber. 



Let us believe 
That there is hope for all the hearts that 
grieve ; 

That somewhere night 
Drifts to a morning beautiful with light, 

And that the wrong 
Though now it triumphs, wields no scep- 
ter long. 

But right will reign 
Throned where the waves of error beat 
in vain. — Frank L. Stanton. 



To change and change is life; to move 

and never rest; 
Not what we are, but what we hope, is 

best. — James Russell Lowell. 



HAVE HOPE 

Have Hope! it is the brightest star 

That lights hfe's pathway down: 
A richer, purer gem than decks 

An Eastern monarch's crown. 
The Midas that may turn to joy 

The grief-fount of the soul; 
That paints the prize and bids thee press 

With fervor to the goal. 

Have Hope! as the tossed mariner 

Upon the wild sea driven 
With rapture hails the polar star — 

His guiding light to haven — 
So Hope shall gladden thee, and guide 

Along life's stormy road. 
And as a sacred beacon stand 

To point thee to thy God. 

— B. A. G. Fuller. 



WAITING 



Serene, I fold my hands and wait, 
Nor care for wind or tide or sea ; 

I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, 
For, lo! my own shall come to me. 

I stay my haste, I make delays, 
For what avails this eager pace? 

I stand amid the eternal ways. 

And what is mine shall know my 
face. 

Asleep, awake, by night or day. 
The friends I seek are seeking me; 

No wind can drive my bark astray, 
Nor change the tide of destiny. 

What matter if I stand alone? 

I wait with joy the coming years; 
My heart shall reap where it has sown 

And gamer up its fruit of tears. 

The waters know their own, and draw 
The brook that springs in yonder 
height ; 

So flows the good, with equal law. 
Unto the soul of pure delight. 

The stars come nightly to the sky; 

The tidal wave unto the sea; 
Nor time nor space, nor deep nor 
high. 
Can keep my own away from me. 
— John Burroughs. 



172 



lOl 



THE LARGER HOPE 



(), yd wo (rust that Hoiuchow ^ood 

Will hr thf Cmnl ^'oal of ill. 

To i>imr,'; of natiirr, sins of will, 
Drfrcls of (loiiht and laii\ts of Itlood; 

Tlmti notliiiiK walks with Jiiinlcss feel; 
Thai not one lift- shidl Iw <IfSlroycd, 
Or <'as( as iiililiisli to the void 

Whrn (iod lialli made the pile «-oni|>ltlc ; 

liiat not) u worm is clovi-ii in vain; 
i'lial not, a moth with vain <lcsiri' 
is shriveled in 11 frnitlc-ss lire, 
()|- Imt snhscivcs anotlu-r's ^ain. 

H<hold, wc know Jiol. niiythiiiK; 
I cjin l)ttf trtisl (hat t'ood shall fall 
At last- far olT— at last,, to all. 

And fvcry winter than};f to spriiij^. 

So tnns my dn-am; Imt what am I? 

An infant cryinj^j in the niv;ht ; 

An infant, rryinj^j for the liK'ht. 
And with no lanj;na);e hnt, 11 cry. 



I falter wht>ro I firmly tnid, 

And fallinj^' with my wei}^ht. of eares 
Upon (he j;i(a( woild^; altai-slaiis 

That slojie throiij;h darkness np to (Iod, 

1 stretch lann" hands of faith and urope, 
And ratlx-r dust, and ehalT, and call 
To wiiat. I feel is !>or<l of idl, 

And faintly trnst, the larj^'<'r hope. 

— Alfred Ti-imyson. 



DESPONDENCY REBUKED 

Sav not, tln> Htrnfjjjir natij;ht avnileth; 

'l"he lalior and the wounds are vain; 
The ei\emv faints not, noi' faileth; 

An<l as thinj;s have Imhmi tlu-y nniain. 

If hopes vv«'re <lii|ies, fears may !)<• liars; 

It may he — in yon smoke i-oneealed — 
Yotir <"onM"ades chase e'rn now the fliers. 

And, hut. for V"", i>osm:;s the lic-ld. 

I'^or while the tired waves, vainly hreak- 

Scorn here no painful ineh to K"hi, 
Far buck. throu>;h creeks and inlets 
makiiif,', 
Comes, silent, lloodinj,' in, the main. 



And not by eastern windows only, 
When davlifht cotnos, COmoH in the 
li^ht; 
In front, the sun climbs slow— how 
slowly! 
Hut. west waid, look, IIk- land is brii'ht! 
— Arthur llu^h l'louj.;h. 



COMMIT THY WAY 

Conunit thy way to Cmd, 

The weif^ht which makes lh<"e faint 
VVoilds are to him no load, 

To him breathe thy complaint. 
He who for winds and clouds 

Maketh a pathway free, 
Throuj;h wastes or hoslil(< crowds. 

Can make 11 way for thco. 

Thon must in him be bh-st. 

ICre bliss can be secm«'; 
On his works must tlmu rest 

If thy work shall endure. 
To anxious, pryinj,' thonj.;ht, 

And w<'ary, freltinj.; care, 
The hi)^;hest yiejdcth nauj;ht: 

He j;iveth all to prayer. 

I''ather, thy faithful love, 

Thy mercy, wise and mild, 
Sees what will blessini; prove. 

Or what will hurl thy child; 
And what thy wise foreseeinj.j 

Doth for thy childicn thoose 
Thi>u brinj^est into beinj.J. 

Nor sulTcrest them to lose. 



Hope, then, thoiijdi woe:. I >c doiil ilcd ; 

Hope and be undism.iyrd ; 
Let not thy heart bi- troubled, 

Nor let it, be .ifraid. 
This i)rison where thou art — 

Thy Ciod will break it soon, 
And flood with liK'hl Ihy heart 

In his own bles.sed no<«i. 

Up! up! the day is breaking; 

Say to Ihy cares, (lood uitjht I 
Thy troubk'S fiom thee shakinj.; 

I,ik«' dreams in d.iy's fresh lij^;ht. 
'i'hou wearesi not the <M-own. 

Nor the best co>u.';e can tell; 
( Iod sittith on llu' throne 

And jMiideth all Ihinj'.s well, 

P.iul Ci<'rhardt, tr. by ICli/.abelh 

Kunillc Charles. 



HOPE 



173 



THE SILVER LINING 



u^ 



There's never a day so sunny 
But a liLlle cloud upj)ears, 

There's never a life so happy 
Hut has its time of tears; 

Yet the sun shines out the brighter 
Whenever the tempest clears. 

There's never a garden growing 
With roses in every plot; 

There's never a heart so hardem-d 
Hut has one tender spot; 

We have only to prune; the border 
To find the forget-me-not. 

There's never a sun that rises 
But we know 'twill set at night; 

Till! tints that gli'am in the morning 
At evirning are just as bright; 

And tlu! hour that is the sweetest 
Is between the, dai'k and light. 

There is never a cup so ])leasant 
But has bitter with the sweet; 

Thert! is never a i)ath so rugged, 
Hearing not thi' print of f('<'t, 

But wi' have a iielper fiiriiislu'cl 
For the trials we may meet. 

There is never a way so narrow 

But the entrance is made straight, 

There is always a guide to point us 
To the "little wicket gate." 

And the angels will be nearest 
To a soul that's desolate. 

There is never a heart so haughty 
Hut will some day bow and kneel; 
There is ntiVer a heart so wounded 
That the Saviour cannot heal; 

There is many a lowly forehead 
Bearing now the hidden seal. 

There's never a dream so happy 
But the w.'iking makes us sad ; 

There's nevi-r a (iream of sorrow 
But the waking makes us glad; 

We shall look some day witli wonder 
At the troubles we have had. 



Yet sometimes glimmers on my sight, 
Thnjugh present wrong, the eternal 

right; 
And, step by step, since time began, 
I sec the steady gain of man. 

— John Greenleaf Whittier. 



FARTHER ON 

I hear it singing, singing sweetly, 

Softly in an undertone, 
Singing as if God had taught it, 

"It is better farther onl" 

Night and day it sings the song, 

Sings it whiU; 1 sit alone, 
Sings so that the heart may hear it, 

"It is better farther on!" 

Sits upon the grave and sings it, 

Sings it wlun tin; heart would groan, 

Sings it when the shadows darken, 
"It is better farther onl" 

li'arther on? How much farther? 

Count the milestones one by one? 
Nol no counting — only trusting, 

"It is better farther onl" 



NICW iC VICKY MORNING 

livery day is a fresh iK^ginning, 

Every morn is the world niiule new; 

You who are weary of sorrow and sin- 
ning, 
Here is a beautiful hope; for you — 
A hope for me and a hope for you. 

All the past things are jiast and over. 
The tasks are done and the tears are 
shed ; 
Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover; 
Yesterday's wounds, which smarted 

and bled, 
Are healed with the healing which 
night has shed. 

Yesterday is a part of forever. 

Hound up in a sheaf which God holds 

tight; 
With glad days, and sad days, and bad 
days, which never 
Shall visit us more with their bloom 

and their blight, 
Their fullness of sunshine or sorrowful 
night. 

Let them go, since we cannot relieve 
them ; 

(Cannot undo, and cannot atone; 
God in his mercy, receive, forgive themi 

Only the new days are our own. 

To-day is ours, and to-day alone. 



174 



HOPE 



Here arc the skies all burnished brij^htly, 

Here is the spent earth all reborn; 
Here arc the tired limbs s])rin},Mn^ lij^htly 
To face the siin, and to share with the 

morn 
In the chrism of dew and the cool of 
dawn. 

I'A'ery day is a fresh be^inninR; 

Listeti, my soul, to the glad refrain, 
And, spite of all sorrow and old sinninji;, 
And ])ii/-/,le forecasted, and possible 

pain, 
Take heart with the day. and begin 
again. — Susan Coolidge. 



CHEER UP 



Never go gloomily, man with a mind; 

Hope is a better companion than fear; 
Providence, ever benignant and kind. 
Gives with a smile what you take with 

a tear. 
All will be right; look to the light; 
Morning is ever the datighter of night; 
All that was black will be all that is 
bright; 

Cheerily, cheerily, then, cheer \^^. 

Many a foe is a frien<l in disguise. 

Many a sorrow a blessing most true, 

Helping the heart to be hai)i)y and wise, 
Bringitig true lo\e and joys ever new. 

Stand in tlie van; strive like a man; 

This is the bravest and cleverest i)lan- 

Trusting in God while you do what y( 



ting 
can. 



you 



Cheerily, cheerily, then, cheer up. 



PROGRESS 



Idly as thou, in that old day 

Thou mournest, did thy sire repine; 
So. in his time, thy child grown gray 

Shall sigh for thine. 

But life shall on and upward go; 

Th' eternal steji of Progress beats 
To that great anthetn, calm and slow. 

Which God repeats. 

Take heart! The Waster builds again; 

A charmed life old Goodness hath; 
The tares may jierish, but the grain 

Is not for deiUh. 

— ^John Grecnlcaf Whitticr. 



THE VEILED FUTURE 

Veiled the future comes, refusing, 
To be seen, like Isaac's bride 

Whom the lonely man met musing 
In the fields at eventide. 

Round him o'er the darkening waste 
Deejier shades of evening fall, 

And bi'hind him in the jiast 
Mother Sarah's funeral. 

Mother Sarah being dead. 

There comes his veiled destiny; 

The veiled Rebecca he must wed 
Whatsoe'er her features be. 

On he walks in silent ]irayer, 
Bids the veiled Rebecca hail. 

Doubting not she will ])rove fair 
When at length she drops the veil. 

When the veil is dro]>j)ed aside, 
Drop]ied in Mother Sarah's tent, 

Oh! she is right fair, this bride 
Whom his loving God has sent. 

'I'o those walking 'twixt the two — 
'Twixt the ]>ast with pleasiu-es dead 

And tlie ftitiu'c v»'ilt-d from view — 
The veiled future thou must wed; 

Walk like Isaac, praying God; 

Walk by faith and not bv sight; 
And though darker grows the road 

Doubt not all will yet come right. 

Things behind forgetting, hail 

lC\ery future from above. 
Doubt not when it drops the veil 

'Twill be such as thou wouldst love. 

Till at death-eve, when the past 
Rings dear Mother Eartli's own 
knells. 
Bridal heaven unveils at last 
With a peal of marriage bells. 

— William Robertson. 



The night is mother of the day, 

The winter of the spring; 
And ever upon old decay 

The greenest mosses cling. 
Behind the cloud the starlight lurks. 

Through showers the sunbeams fall; 
For God, who loveth all his works. 

Has left his hope with all. 

— John Greenleaf Whitlier. 



HOPE 



175 



IMAGINARY EVILS 

Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow; 

Leave things of the future to fate; 
What's the use to anticipate sorrow? 

Life's troubles come never too late! 
If to hope overmuch be an error, 

'Tis one that the wise have preferred ; 
And how often have hearts been in 
terror 

Of evils that never occurred. 

Have faith, and thy faith shall sustain 
thee; 

Permit not suspicion and care 
With invisible bonds to acclaim thee, 

But bear what God gives thee to bear. 
By his spirit supported and gladdened, 

Be ne'er by forebodings deterred; 
But think how oft hearts have been sad- 
dened 

By fear of what never occurred. 

*> Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow; 

Short and dark as our life may appear 

We may make it still darker by sorrow, 

Still shorter by folly and fear! 
Half our troubles are half our invention. 

And often from blessings conferred 
Have we shrunk, in the wild apprehen- 
sion 
Of evils that never occurred. 

— Charles Swain. 



THE MORNING STAR 

There is a morning star, my soul ! 

There is a morning star; 
'Twill soon be near and bright, my soul, 

Though now it seem so dim and far. 
And when time's stars have come and 

gone, 
And every mist of earth has flown, 

That better star shall rise 

On this world's clouded skies 
To shine forever! 

The night is well-nigh spent, my soul ! 

The night is well-nigh spent; 
And soon above our heads shall rise 

A glorious firmament. 
A sky all clear and glad and bright. 
The Lamb once slain its perfect light, 

A star without a cloud. 

Whose light no mists enshroud. 
Descending never! 



THREE LESSONS 

There are three lessons I would write — 
Three words as with a burning pen. 

In tracings of eternal light, 
Upon the hearts of men. 

Have Hope. Though clouds environ 
now. 

And gladness hides her face in scorn, 
Put thou the shadow from thy brow — 

No night but hath its morn. 

Have Faith. Where'er thy bark is 
driven — 
The calm's disport, the tempest's 
mirth — 
Know this : God rules the host of heaven, 
The inhabitants of earth. 

Have Love. Not love alone for one, 
But man as man thy brother call; 

And scatter like the circling sun 
Thy charities on all. 

Thus grave these lessons on thy. soul — 
Faith, Hope, and Love — and thou 
shalt find 
Strength when life's surges rudest roll, 
Light when thou else wert blind. 
— ^Johann Christopher Friedrich von 
Schiller. 



Knowing this, that never yet 
Share of truth was vainly set 

In the world's wide fallow; 
After hands shall sow the seed. 
After hands from hill and mead 

Reap the harvests yellow. 
— John Greenleaf Whittier. 



Yet I argue not 
Against Thy hand or will, nor bate a jot 
Of heart or hope, but still bear up and 
steer 
Right onward. — ^John Milton. 



The world is growing better, 

No matter what they say; 
The light is shining brighter 

In one refulgent ray; 
And though deceivers murmur, 

And turn another way. 
Yet still the world grows better 

And better every day. 



176 



HOPE 



Never give up! it is wiser and better 

Always to hope than once Id despair; 
Fling oft the load of Doubt's cankering 
fetter, 
And break the dark spell of tyrannical 
care ; 
Never give up, or the burden may sink 
you — 
Providence kindly has mingled (he 
cup ; 
And in all trials and troubles befliink 
you 
The watchword of life nuist be — 
Never give uj). 



It's wiser being good than bad ; 
It's safer being meek than liercc; 
It's fitter l)eing sane than mad. 

My own ho])e is a sini will jiieree 
The thickest cloud earth ever stretched ; 

That, after Last, returns the Thirst, 
Though a wide compass round be 
fetched ; 
That what began best, can't end 

worst, 
Nor what God blest once, prove ac- 
curst. — Robert Browning. 



Hope, Christian soul! in every stage 

Of this thine earthly pilgi-imagc. 

Let heavenly ioy thy thoughts engage; 

Abound in hope. 
Hope throvigh the watches of the night; 
Hope till the morrow brings tlie light; 
Hope till thy faith be lost in sight ; 

Abound in hope. 



God works in all things; all obey 
Ilis first jirojnilsion from the night; 

Wake thou and watch ! the world is gray 
With morning light. 

— John Greenleaf Whittier. 



When the sun of joy is hidden. 

And the sky is overcast, 
Just remember — light is coming. 

And the storm won't always last. 



The mist denies the mountains; 

The wind ft)rbids the sea; 
But, mist or wind, I go to lind 

The day that calls to me. 

For there are mornings yonder 
And noons that call and call; 

And there's a day with arms outheld. 
That waits beyond them all. 

— ^Josephine Preston Pcabody. 



Ojien the door of your hearts, my lads. 

To the angel of Love and Truth 
When the world is full of unnumbered 

In the beautiful dawn of youth. 
Casting aside all things that mar. 

Saying to wrong, Depart! 
To tne voices of hope that are calling 
you 
Open the door of your heart. 

— Edward Everett Hale. 



A little bit of hope 

Makes a rainy day look gay; 
A little bit of charity 

Makes glad a weary way! 



Hope, child, to-morrow, and to-morrow 
still. 
And every morrow hope; trust while 
you live. 
Hope ! each time the dawn doth heaven 
fill, 
Be there to ask as God is there to give. 
— Victor Hugo. 



FAITH 

ASSURANCE, DOUBT, UNBELIEF 



THE ETERNAL GOODNESS 

I bow my fcjrehcad to the dust, 

I veil mine eyes for shame, 
And urge, in trembling self-distrust, 

A prayer withovit a claim. 
No ofifering of mine own I have, 

Nor works my faith to prove; 
I can but give the gifts he gave. 

And plead his love for love. 

I dimly guess, from blessings known, 

Of greater out of sight ; 
And, with the chastened psalmist, own 

His judgments too are right. 
And if my heart and flesh are weak 

To bear an untried pain. 
The bruised reed he will not break, 

But strengthen and sustain. 

I know not what the future hath 

Of marvel or surprise, 
Assured alone that life and death 

His mercy underlies. 
And so beside the silent sea 

I wait the muffled oar; 
No harm from him can come to me 

On ocean or on shore. 

I know not where his islands lift 

Their fronded palms in air; 
I only know I cannot drift 

Beyond his love and care. 
And thou, O Lord, by whom are seen 

Thy creatures as they be. 
Forgive me if too close I lean 

My human heart on thee. 

— ^John Greenleaf Whittier. 



Forgive us, Lord, our little faith; 

And help us all, froin morn till e'en, 
Still to believe that lot the best 

Which is, not that which might have 
been. 

And grant we may so pass the days 
The cradle and the grave between, 

That death's dark hour not darker be 
For thoughts of what life might have 
been. 



THE ONE THING NEEDFUL 

My prayer to the promise shall cling — 
I will not give heed to a dtnibt; 

For I ask for the one needful thing 
Which I cannot be happy without: 

A spirit of lowly repose 

In the love of the Lamb that was slain ; 
A heart to be touched with his woes. 

And a care not to grieve him again; 

The peace that my Saviour has bought, 
The cheerfulness nothing can dim. 

The love that can bring every thought 
Into perfect obedience to him; 

The wisdom his mercy to own 

In the way he directs me to take — 

To glory in Jesus alone, 

And to love and do good for his sake. 

All this thou hast oflfered to me 
In the promise whereon I will rest; 

For faith, O my Saviour! in thee. 
Is the substance of all my request. 

Thy word has commanded my prayer, 
Thy Spirit has taught me to pray; 

And all my unholy desj^air 
Is ready to vanish away. 

Thou wilt not be weary of me; 

Thy promise my faith .shall sustain; 
And soon, very soon, shall I .see 

I have not been asking in vain. 

— Anna Letitia Waring. 



Ah, God! I have not had thee day and 

night 
In thought, nor magnified thy name 

aright, 
Nor lauded thee, nor glorified, nor laid 
Upon thine altars one poor kusa -blade! 
Yet now, when I seek refuge, Lord! with 

thee, 
I ask, and thou wilt give, all good to me. 
— Edwin Arnold, from the Sanskrit. 



177 



178 



FAITH 



ABOVE ALL, THE SHIELD 

Faith fails; 
Then in the dust 

Lie failing rest and light and trust. 
So doth the troubled soul itself distress, 
And choke the fountain in the wilder- 
ness. 

I care not what your peace assails! 

The deep root is, faith fails. 

Faith fails 
When in the breast 

The Lord's sweet presence doth not rest; 
For who believes, clouds cannot make 

afraid ; 
He knows the sun doth shine behind 
the shade; 
He rides at anchor through the gales. 
Do you not so ? Faith fails. 

Faith fails; 
Its foes alarm, 

And persecution's threats disarm; 
False friends can scarcely wish it a good 

day. 
Before it taketh fright and shrinks away. 
When God doth guard, what foe pre- 
vails? 
Why then the fear? Faith fails. 

Faith fails; 
Else cares would die. 
And we should on God's care rely. 
Man for the coming day doth grieve and 

fret, 
And all past days doth sinfully forget. 

For every beast God's care avails; 

Why not for us? Faith fails. 

Faith fails; 
Then cometh fear. 
If sickness comes, if death is near. 
O man, why is it, when the times are bad 
And the days evil, that thy face is sad? 

How is it that thy courage qviails? 

It must be this: Faith fails. 

My God! 
Let my faith be 
Living, and working actively 
With hope and joy, that death may not 

surprise. 
So let them sweetly close my eyes; 
The Christian's life to death may 

yield — 
Hope stands; faith has the field. 

— S. C. Schoener. 



LOOKING UNTO GOD 



I look to Thee in every need, 

And never look in vain; 
I feel thy strong and tender love. 

And all is well again: 
The thought of thee is mightier far 
Than sin and pain and sorrow are. 

Discouraged in the work of life, 

Disheartened by its load. 
Shamed by its failures or its fears, 

I sink beside the road; 
But let ntie only think of Thee, 
And then new heart springs up in me. 

Thy calmness bends serene above 

My restlessness to still; 
Around me flows thy quickening life, 

To nerve my faltering will; 
Thy presence fills my solitude; 
Thy providence tvtms all to good. 

Embosomed deep in Thy dear love, 

Held in thy law, I stand; 
Thy hand in all things I behold. 

And all things in thy hand; 
Thou leadest me by unsought ways. 
And turn'st my mourning into praise. 
— Samuel Longfellow. 



I 



FAITH 



If I could feel my hand, dear Lord, in 
thine. 

And surely know 
That I was walking in the light divine 

Throvigh weal or woe ; 

If I coiild hear thy voice in accents sweet 

But plainly say. 
To guide my groping, wandering feet, 

"This is the way;" 

I would so gladly walk therein ; but now 

I cannot see. 
Oh, give me. Lord, the faith to humbly 
bow 

And trust in thee! 

There is no faith in seeing. Were we led 

Like children here. 
And lifted over rock and river-bed, 

No care, no fear, 

We should be useless in the busy throng ; 

Life's work undone; 
Lord, make us brave and earnest, true 
and strong, 

Till heaven is won. 

— Sarah Knowles Bolton. 



FAITH 



179 



DOUBTING NOTHING 

Acts 10. 9-20. 

Not to thy saints of old alone dost Thou 
In heavenly trance make known thy 

perfect will, 
But to each hungry soul thy love 
would fill — 
Descending out of heaven, we wist not 

how — 
Comes by thy grace the holy vision now ; 
While we whose hearts should with 

the message thrill 
Cry "Common and imholy!" to thee 
still, 
And, vininspired, in grief before thee 
bow. 

O Thou, whose Own the way we fare 
hath trod. 
Give to thy children qtiick, discern- 
ing eyes 
To see in life upspringing from the sod 
All the divineness that within it lies, 
Till humble service lift us to the skies 
Who, "doubting nothing," seek thy will, 
O God! 

— Louise Manning Hodgkins. 



THE EYE OF FAITH 

I do not ask for earthly store 

Beyond a day's supply; 
I only covet more and more 

The clear and single eye. 
To see my duty face to face 
And trust the Lord for daily grace. 

I care not for the empty show 
That thoughtless worldlings see; 

I crave to do the best I know, 
And leave the rest with thee; 

Well satisfied that sweet reward 

Is sure to those who trust the Lord. 

Whate'er the crosses mine shall be, 

I will not dare to shun; 
I only ask to live for thee, 

And that thy will be done; 
Thy will, O Lord, be mine each day. 
While passing on my homeward way. 

And when at last, my labor o'er, 

I cross the narrow sea. 
Grant, Lord, that on the other shore 

My soul may dwell with thee, 
And learn what here I cannot know: 
Why thou hast ever loved me so. 

—J. J. Maxfield. 



HAVE FAITH IN GOD 

Have faith in God ! for he who reigns on 
high 

Hath borne thy grief and hears the sup- 
pliant's sigh, 

Still to his arms, thine only refuge, fly. 
Have faith in God! 

Fear not to call on him, O soul dis- 
tressed ! 

Thy sorrow's whisper wooes thee to his 
breast ; 

He who is oftenest there is oftenest 
blest. 

Have faith in God! 

Lean not on Egypt's reeds; slake not thy 

thirst 
At earthly cisterns. Seek the kingdom 

first. 
Though man and Satan fight thee with 

their worst. 

Have faith in God! 

Go tell him all! The sigh thy bosom 

heaves 
Is heard in heaven. Strength and grace 

he gives 
Who gave himself for thee. Our Jesus 

lives ; 

Have faith in God! 



FAITH IN GOD 

Though time may dig the grave of 
creeds. 

And dogmas wither in the sod, 
My soul will keep the thought it needs — 

Its swerveless faith in God. 

No matter how the world began, 

Nor where the march of science goes. 

My trust in something more than man 
Shall help me bear life's woes. 

Let progress take the props away, 
And moldering superstitions fall; 

Still God retains his regal sway — 
The Maker of us all. 

Why cavil over that or this? 

One thought is vast enough for me — 
The great Creator was, and is, 

And evermore will be. 



i8o 



FAITH 



A STRONGER FAITH 

Perplext in faith, but pure in deeds, 
At last he beat his music out. 
There lives more faith in honest doubt, 

Believe me, than in half the creeds. 

He fought his doubts and gathered 
strength. 
He would not make his judgment 

blind. 
He faced the specters of the mind 
And laid them; thus he came at length 

To find a stronger faith his own. 

And Power was with him in the night, 
Which makes the darkness and the 
light. 
And dwells not in the light alone. 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



A PERFECT FAITH 

O for a faith that will not shrink 
Though pressed by every foe. 

That will not tremble on the brink 
Of any earthly woe! 

That will not murmur nor complain 
Beneath the chastening rod, 

But in the hour of grief or pain 
Will lean upon its God; 

A faith that shines more bright and clear 
When tempests rage without; 

That when in danger knows no fear. 
In darkness feels no doubt; 

That bears, unmoved, the world's dread 
frown. 

Nor heeds its scornful smile; 
That seas of trouble cannot drown, 

Nor Satan's arts beguile. 

Lord, give us such a faith as this, 
And then, whate'er may come, 

We'll taste, e'en here, the hallowed bliss 
Of an eternal home. 

— William H. Bathurst. 



Who liveth best? Not he whose sail, 

Swept on by favoring tide and gale, 

Swift wins the haven fair; 

But he whose spirit strong doth still 

A victory wrest from every ill; 

Whose faith sublime 

On every cloud a rainbow paints — 

'Tis he redeems the time. 



BELIEVE GOOD THINGS OF GOD 

When in the storm it seems to thee 
That he who rules the raging sea 
Is sleeping — still, with bended knee, 
Believe good things of God. 

When thou hast sought in vain to find 
The silver thread of love entwined 
With life's oft-tangled web — resigned, 
Believe good things of God. 

And should he smite thee till thy heart 
Is crushed beneath the bruising smart. 
Still, while the bitter tear-drops start. 
Believe good things of God. 

'Tis true, thou canst not understand 
The dealings of thy Father's hand; 
But, trusting what his love has planned, 
Believe good things of God. 

He loves thee! In that love confide — 
Unchanging, faithful, true, and tried; 
And let or joy or grief betide. 
Believe good things of God. 

Thou canst not raise thy thovtghts too 

high; 
As spreads above the earth the sky, 
So do his thoughts thy thoughts outvie : 
Believe good things of God. 

In spite of what thine eyes behold ; 
In spite of what thy fears have told ; 
Still to his gracious promise hold — 
Believe good things of God. 

For know that what thou canst believe 
Thou shalt in his good time receive ; 
Thou canst not half his love conceive — 
Believe good things of God. 

—William Lufif. 



BE NOT WEARY 

Then, fainting soul, arise and sing; 
Mount, but be sober on the wing; 
Mount up, for heaven is won by prayer, 
Be sober, for thou art not there. 
Till death the weary spirit free, 
Thy God hath said 'tis good for thee 
To walk by faith, and not by sight. 

Take it on trust a little while; 
Soon thou shalt read the mystery right 

In the fiill sunshine of his smile. 

— John Keble. 



FAITH 



i8i 



ALL'S FOR THE BEST 

All's for the best; be sanguine and cheer- 
ful; 
Trouble and sorrow are friends in dis- 
guise; 
Nothing but folly goes faithless and 
fearfiil, 
Courage forever is happy and wise. 

All's for the best, if a man would but 

know it; 

Providence wishes us all to be blest; 

This is no dream of the pundit or poet. 

Heaven is gracious and all's for the 

best. 

All's for the best; then fling away 
terrors ; 
Meet all your fears and your foes in 
the van; 
And in the midst of your dangers or 
errors. 
Trust like a child, while you strive like 
a man. 

All's for the best; unbiased, unbounded. 
Providence reigns from the east to the 
west; 
And, by both wisdom and mercy sur- 
rounded, 
Hope, and be happy, that all's for 
the best. 

— Martin Farquhar Tupper. 



BLEST IS THE FAITH DIVINE 
AND STRONG 

Blest is the faith divine and strong, 
Of thanks and praise an endless 
fotmtain, 

Whose life is one perpetual song 

High up the Saviour's holy mountain. 

Blest is the hope that holds to God, 
In doubt and darkness still unshaken ; 

And sings along the heavenly road, 
Sweetest when most it seems forsaken. 

Blest is the love that cannot love 
Aught that earth gives of best and 
brightest ; 

Whose raptures thrill, like saints above, 
Most when its earthly gifts are lightest. 

Blest is the time that in the eye 

Of God its hopeful watch is keeping. 
And grows into eternity 

Like noiseless trees when men are 
sleeping. 

— Frederick William Faber. 



GOD'S VOICE 

Around my path life's mysteries 

Their deepening shadows throw; 
And as I gaze and ponder, 

They dark and darker grow; 
Yet still amid the darkness 

I feel the light is near. 
And in the awful stillness 

God's voice I seem to hear. 

Thy voice I hear above me, 

Which says, "Wait, trust, and pray; 
The night will soon be over. 

And light will come with day." 
Amen! the light and darkness 

Are both alike to thee; 
Then to thy waiting servant 

Alike they both shall be. 

That great iinending future, 

I cannot pierce its shroud. 
But nothing doubt nor tremble, 

God's bow is on the cloud; 
To him I yield my spirit. 

On him I lay my load; 
Fear ends with death; beyond it 

I nothing see but God. 

— Samuel Greg. 



FLOWERS WITHOUT FRUIT 

Prune thou thy words; the thoughts 
control 

That o'er thee swell and throng; — 
They will condense within thy soul. 

And change to purpose strong. 

But he who lets his feelings run 

In soft luxurious flow 
Shrinks when hard service must be done, 

And faints at every woe. 

Faith's meanest deed more favor bears, 
Where hearts and wills are weighed. 
Than brightest transports, choicest 
prayers. 
Which bloom this hour, and fade. 
— ^John Henry Newman. 



Fair is the soul, rare is the soul 

Who has kept, after youth is past. 
All the art of the child, all the heart of 
the child. 
Holding his faith at last. 

— Frank Gelett Burgess. 



i8a 



FAITH 



GOD KNOWS 

God knows — not I — the devious way 
Wherein my faherinfj feet may tread, 

Ik'fore inU> the H.i;hl nf day, 

My stejjs from out this j^jloom are led, 

And, sinee my l^ord the jnith doth see, 

What matter if 'tis hid from me? 

God knows — not I — how sweet accord 
Shall j^fi-ow at length from out^ this 
clash 

Of earthly discords which have jarnd 
On soul and sense; 1 hear the erasli, 

Yet feel and know that on his ear 

Breaks harmony — full, deep, and clear. 

God knows — not I — why, when T'd fain 
Have walked in pastures grei-n and 
fair. 
The ])ath he i)ointed me hath lain 
Through rocky di'serts, bleak and 
bare. 
I blindly trust — since 'tis his will — 
This way lies safety, that way ill. 

He knoweth, too, despite my will 
I'm weak when 1 should be most 
strong. 

And after earnest wrestling still 
I see the right yet do the wrong. 

Is it that I may learn at length 

Not mine, but his, the saving strength? 

His perfect plan I may not grasp, 
Yet I can trust Love Intinite, 

And with my feeble fingers elasj) 

The hand which leatls me into light. 

My soul upon his errands goes, 

The end I know not — but God knows. 



THE LORD'S LEADING 

Thus far the Lord hath led its, in dark- 
ness and in day, 

Through all the varied stages of tlu> 
narrow hi>meward way; 

Long sinet> he took that jonmey — he 
trod that i)alh alone; 

Its trials and its dangers full well him- 
self hath known. 

Thus far the Lord hath led us; the 

]>romisc hath not failed. 
The enemy, enecnmtered oft, has never 

quite i^revailed: 
The shield of faith has turned aside, or 

quenched each tit>ry dart , 
The Spirit's swi">rd in we;ikest hands has 

forced him to depart. 



Thus far the Lord hath led us; the 

waters have been high, 
But yet in i)assing through them we felt 

that he was nigh. 
A very jiresent helper in trouble we have 

foimd, 
His comforts nH>st aboimded wlu-n our 

sorrows did aboinul. 

Thus far the Lord hath led us; our need 

hath been siipplied, 
And mercy hath encompassed us about 

on eveiy side; 
Still falls the daily manna; the i)ure 

roek-fountains ilow; 
And many llowirs of K)ve and hope along 

the wayside grow. 

Thus far the Lord hath led us; and will 

he now forsake 
The feeble ones whom {ov his own it 

j)leases him to take? 
Oh, never, never! earthly friends may 

cold and faithless i>rove. 
But his is changeless pity and everlasting 

love. 

(,'almly we look behind ns, our joys and 

sorrows past. 
We know that all is mercy now, and 

shall be wcW at last; 
C'ahnly we look before us; we fear no 

futttre ill. 
Enough for safety and for peace, if Thou 

art with us still. 

Yes, they that know thy name, Lord, 

shall ]nit their trust in thee. 
While nothing in themselves but sin and 

helplessni'ss they see. 
The race thou hast appointed us with 

patience we can rvm. 
Thou wilt ])erform imto the end the 

work thou hast begun. 



Have yoti fomid your life distasteful? 

My life tlid and does smack sweet. 
Was your youth of i>leasiu-e wasteful? 

Miiie I saved, and holil coninlete. 
Do vour joys with age diminisn? 

When inine fail me I'll complain. 
Must in death your daylight Imish? 

Mv sun .sets to rise again. 
I find earth not gray, but rosy; 

Heaven not grim, but fair of hue. 
Do 1 stoop? I pluck a posy; 

Do I stand and stare? All's blue. 
— Robert Browning. 



FAITH 



183 



WE SHALL KNOW 

In wise jjroporliou does a foiul hand 
mingle 
The sweet and bitter in our Hfe-cup 
here ; 
Each drop of either is by love eternal 
Poured forth in wisdom for his chil- 
dren dear. 

The loving Father, as a wise physician, 
Knows what the wants of all those 
children are; 
Knows which is needed most — the joy 
or sorrow, 
The peace of comfort, or affliction's 
war. 

Then, should the bitter be our daily 

portion. 

So that we cannot any sweet discern. 

Let us, in childlike faith, receive with 

meekness 

The needed tonic, and its lessons learn. 

And if we cannot even that decipher, 
Let us be still, nay, thank him for his 
care. 
Contented that we soon shall know — 
hereafter — 
When we the fullness of his presence 
share. — Charlotte Murray. 



THE STEPS OF FAITH 

Know well, my soul, God's hand controls 

Whate'er thou fearest; 
Rovmd him in calmest music rolls 

Whate'er thou hearest. 

Nothing before, nothing behind; 

The steps of faith 
Fall on the seeming void, and find 

The rock beneath. 

The Present, the Present is all thou hast 

For thy sure possessing; 
Like the patriarch's angel, hold it fast 

Till it gives its blessing. 

— John Greenleaf Whittier. 



I am of sinfulness and sorrows full! 

Thou art the Mighty, Great, and Merci- 
ful! 

How should we not be friends, or thou 
not save 

Me who bring naught to thee who all 
things gave? 
— Edwin Arnold, from the Sanskrit. 



MY GUIDE 

I know not the way I am going. 

But well do I know my Guide! 
With a childlike trust do I give my hand 

To the mighty Friend by my side; 
And the only thing that I say to him, 

As he takes it, is, "Hold it fast! 
Sufifer me not to lose the way, 

And lead me home at last." 

As when some helpless wanderer 

Alone in some unknown land. 
Tells the guide his destined place of rest, 

And leaves all else in his hand ; 
'Tis home — 'tis home that I wish to 
reach. 

He who guides me may choose the 
way; 
And little I care what path I take 

When nearer home each day. 



THE LORD'S PROVISION 

In some way or other the Lord will pro- 
vide; 

It may not be my way, it may not be 
thy way; 

And yet in his own way, "The Lord will 
provide." 

At some time or other the Lord will 

provide ; 
It may not be my time, it may not be 

thy time; 
And yet in his own time, "The Lord will 

provide." 

Despond, then, no longer, the Lord will 

provide. 
And this be the token — no word he hath 

spoken 
Was ever yet broken: "The I-ord will 

provide." 

March on, then, right boldly; the sea 
shall divide; 

The pathway made glorious, with shout- 
ings victorious 

We'll join in the chorus, "The Lord will 
provide." 

— Mary Ann W. Cook. 



It is faith, 
The feeling that there's God. He reigns 

and rules 
Out of this low world. 

— Robert Browning. 



i84 



FAITH 



FAITH IS THE VICTORY 

Encamped along the hills of light, 
Ye Christian soldiers, rise. 

And press the battle ere the night 
Shall veil the glowing skies; 

Against the foe in vales below- 
Let all our strength be hurled ; 

Faith is the victory, we know, 
That overcomes the world. 

His banner over us is love, 

Our sword the word of God; 
We tread the road the saints above 

With shouts of triumph trod; 
By faith they, like a whirlwind's breath, 

Swept on o'er every field; 
The faith by which they conquered 
death 

Is still our shining shield. 

On every hand the foe we find 

Drawn up in dread array; 
Let tents of ease be left behind. 

And — onward to the fray; 
Salvation's helmet on each head, 

With truth all girt about. 
The earth shall tremble 'neath our tread. 

And echo with our shout. 

To him that overcomes the foe 

White raiment shall be given; 
Before the angels he shall know 

His name confessed in heaven; 
Then onward from the hills of light. 

Our hearts with love aflame. 
We'll vanquish all the hosts of night 

In Jesus' conquering name. 

— ^John H. Yates. 



RELIGIOUS DIFFERENCES 

Yes, we do differ when we most agree, 
For words are not the same to you and 

me. 
And it may be our several spiritual needs 
Are best supplied by seeming different 
creeds. 

And, differing, we agree in one 

Inseparable communion. 
If the true life be in our hearts ; the faith 

Which not to want is death; 

To want is penance; to desire 

Is purgatorial fire; 
To hope is paradise ; and to believe 
Is all of heaven that earth can e'er re- 
ceive. — Hartley Coleridge. 



THE LORD WILL PROVIDE 

Though troubles assail, and dangers 
affright. 

Though friends should all fail, and foes 
all unite. 

Yet one thing secures us, whatever be- 
tide. 

The promise assures us, "The Lord will 
provide." 

The birds, without bam or store-house, 

are fed; 
From them let us learn to trust for our 

bread : 
His saints what is fitting shall ne'er be 

denied. 
So long as 'tis written, "The Lord will 

provide." 

When Satan appears to stop up our path, 
And fills us with fears, we triumph by 

faith; 
He can not take from us, though oft he 

has tried. 
The heart-cheering promise, "The Lord 

will provide." 

He tells us we're weak, our hope is in 

vain; 
The good that we seek we ne'er shall 

obtain : 
But when such suggestions our graces 

have tried. 
This answers all questions, "The Lord 

will provide." 

No strength of our own nor goodness we 

claim ; 
Our trust is all thrown on Jesus's name: 
In this our strong tower for safety we 

hide: 
The Lord is our power, "The Lord will 

provide." 

When life sinks apace, and death is in 

view. 
The word of his grace shall comfort 

us through; 
Not fearing or doubting, with Christ on 

our side, 
We hope to die shouting, "The Lord will 

provide." — ^John Newton. 



Art thou afraid his power will fail 
When comes thy evil day? 

And can an all-creating arm 
Grow weary, or decay I 



FAITH 



i8s 



IF WE BELIEVED 

If we believed we should arise and sing, 
Dropping our burdens at his pierced 
feet. 
Sorrow would flee and weariness take 
wing, 
Hard things grow fair, and bitter 
waters sweet. 

If we believed, what room for fear or care 
Within his arms, safe sheltered on his 
breast ? 
Peace for our pain, and hope for our 
despair, 
Is what he meant who said, "I give 
thee rest." 

Why linger, turn away, or idly grieve? 
Where else is rest — the soul's su- 
premest need? 
Grandly he offers; meanly we receive. 
Yet love that gives us rest is love 
indeed. 

The love that rests — say, shall it not do 
more? 
Make haste, sad soul, thy heritage to 
claim. 
It calms; it heals; it bears what erst ye 
bore. 
And marks thy burdens with his own 
dear name. 

Carried in him and for him, can they 
harm 
Or press thee sore, or prove a weary 
weight ? 
Nay, nay; into thy life his blessed calm 
Shall drop, and thou no more be deso- 
late. 



TO FAITH 



Beside thy gracious hearth content I 
stay, 
Or with thee fate's appointed journey 

go; 
I lean upon thee when my step is slow, 
I wrap me with thee in the naked day. 

With thee no loneliness, no pathless 
way; 
The wind is heaven's, to take as it 

shall blow; 
More than thy voice, thy hand, I need 
not know; 
I may not murmur, for I shall not stray. 



WAIT ON GOD 

Not so in haste, my heart! 

Have faith in God, and wait; 
Although he seems to linger long 

He never comes too late. 

He never comes too late; 

He knoweth what is best; 
Vex not thyself, it is in vain; 

Until he cometh, rest. 

Until he cometh, rest; 

Nor grudge the hours that roll ; 
The feet that wait for God, 'tis they 

Are soonest at the goal. 

Are soonest at the goal 

That is not gained by speed ; 

Then hold thee still, O restless heart, 
For I shall wait his lead. 

— Bradford Torrey. 



BEGONE, UNBELIEF 

Begone, unbelief, my Saviour is near. 
And for my relief will surely appear. 
His love in time past forbids me to think 
He'll leave me at last in trouble to sink. 

Since all that I meet shall work for my 
good. 

The bitter is sweet, the medicine food; 

Though painful at present, 'twill cease 
before long. 

And then, oh, how pleasant the con- 
queror's song! — John Newton. 



As yonder tower outstretches to the 

earth 
The dark triangle of its shade alone 
When the clear day is shining on its top, 
So, darkness in the pathway of man's life 
Is but the shadow of God's providence, 
By the great Sun of Wisdom cast 

therein ; 
And what is dark below is light in 

Heaven. 

— ^John Greenleaf Whittier. 



Faith is a grasping of Almighty power; 
The hand of man laid on the arm of God ; 
The grand and blessed hour 
In which the things impossible to me 
Become the possible, O Lord, through 
thee. — Anna E. Hamilton. 



1 86 



FAITH 



There is no faith in seeing. Were wc led 

Like children here, 
And lifted over rock and river bed, 

No care, no fear. 
We should be useless in the busy throng, 

Life's work undone; 
Lord, make us brave and earnest, in 
faith strong. 

Till heaven is won. 



The cross on Golgotha can never save 
Thy soul from decticst hell; 

Unless with loving faith thou setts' t it 
up 
Within thy heart as well. 

— Scheffler, tr. by Frederic Rowland 
Marvin. 



In vain they smite me. Men but do 
What God pennits with different view, 
To oxitward sight they hold the rod, 
But faith proclaims it all of God. 

— Madame Guyon. 



Talk Faith. The world is better off 

without 
Your uttered ignorance and morlnd 

doubt. 
If you have faith in God, or man, or self, 
Say so ; if not, push back upon the shelf 
Of silence lower thoughts till faith shall 

come. 



The body sins not, 'tis the will 
That makes the action good or ill. 

— Robert Herrick. 



Who never doubted, never half believed ; 
Where doubt, there truth is — 'tis her 
shadow. 

— Philip James Bailey. 



'Tis not the grapes of Canaan that repay, 
But the high laith that failed not by 
the way. 

— James Russell Lowell. 



No more with downcast eyes go falter- 
ing on. 
Alone and sick at heart, and closely 
pressed. 
Thy chains shall break, thy heavy heart 
is gone. 
For he who calls thee, ho will "give 
thcc rest." 

— Mary Lowe Dickinson. 



My God, I would not live 
Save that I think this gross hard-seem- 
ing world 
Is our misshaping vision of the Powers 
Behind the world that make our griefs 
our gains. 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



And all is well, though faith and form 
Be simdbred in the night of fear. 
Well roars the storm to those that hear 

A deeper voice across the storm. 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



The crowd of cares, the weightiest cross, 
Seem trifles less than light; 

Earth looks so little and so low, 
When faith shines full and bright. 
— Frederick William Faber. 



A faith that shines by night and day 
Will lighten every earthly load. 



Grant us, O God, in love to thee — 
Clear eyes to measure things below, 

Faith the invisible to see. 

And wisdom thee in all to know. 



Our doubts arc traitors. 
And make us lose the good we oft might 

win. 
By fearing to attempt. 

— William Shakespeare. 



TRUST 

GUIDANCE, SAFETY, GLADNESS 



RESTING IN GOD 

Since thy Father's arm sustains thee, 

Peaceful be; 
When a chastening hand rcsti'ains thee, 

It is he. 
Know his love in full completeness 
Fills the ineasurc of thy weakness; 
If He wound the spirit sore, 

Trust him more. 

Without murmur, uncomplaining. 

In His hand. 
Lay whatever things thou canst not 

Understand. 
Though the world thy folly spurneth, 
From thy faith in pity turnctn, 
Peace thy inmost soul shall fill, 

Lying still. 

Like an infant, if thou thinkest 

Thou canst stand, 
Childlike, proudly pushing back 

The offered hand, 
Courage soon is changed to fear. 
Strength doth feebleness appear; 
In his love if thou abide, 

He will guide. 

Fearest sometimes that thy Father 

Hath forgot? 
When the clouds around thee gather. 

Doubt him not. 
Always hath the daylight broken; 
Always hath He comfort spoken ; 
Better hath he been for years 

Than thy fears. 

Therefore, whatsoe'er betideth. 

Night or day. 
Know His love for thee provideth 

Good alway. 
Crown of sorrow gladly take; 
Grateful wear it for His sake; 
Sweetly bending to his will. 

Lying still. 

To his own thy Saviour giveth 

Daily strength. 
To each troubled soul that liveth. 

Peace at length. 
Weakest lambs have largest share 
Of the tender Shepherd's care; 
Ask him not the "When," or "How"; 

Only bow. 
— Charles Rudolf Hagenbach. 



I WILL TRUST 

I am glad to think 
I am not bound to make the world go 

right. 
But only to discover and to do 
With cheerful heart the work that God 

appoints. 

I will trust in him 
That he can hold his own; and I will 

take 
His will, above the work he sendeth me, 
To be my chiefest good. 

— Jean Ingelow, 



I KNOW NOT IF THE DARK OR 
BRIGHT 

I know not if the dark or bright 

Shall be my lot; 
If that wherein my hopes delight 

Be best or not. 

It may be mine to drag for years 

Toil's heavy chain ; 
Or day and night my meat be tears, 

On bed of pain. 

Dear faces may surround my hearth 

With smiles and glee; 
Or I may dwell alone, and mirth 

Be strange to me. 

My bark is wafted to the strand 

By breath divine; 
And on the helm there rests a hand 

Other than mine. 

One who has known in storms to sail 

I have on board; 
Above the raging of the gale 

I hear my Lord. 

He holds me when the billows smite; 

I shall not fall; 
If sharp, 'tis short; if long, 'tis light, 

He tempers all. 

Safe to the land, safe to the land I 

The end is this: 
And then with him go, hand in hand. 

Far into bliss. — Dean Alford. 



187 



i88 



TRUST 



I CAN TRUST 

I cannot see, with my small human 

sight, 
Why God should lead this way or that 

for me; 
I only know he saith, "Child, follow me." 
But I can trust. 

I know not why my path should be at 

times 
So straitly hedged, so strongly barred 

before ; 
I only know God could keep wide the 

door; 

But I can trust. 

I find no answer, often, when beset 
With questions fierce and subtle on my 

way. 
And often have but strength to faintly 

pray; 

But I can trust. 

I often wonder, as with trembling hand 
I cast the seed along the furrowed 

ground, 
If ripened fruit will in my life be found ; 
But I can trust. 

I cannot know why suddenly the storm 
Should rage so fiercely round me in its 

wrath ; 
But this I know — God watches all my 

path. 

And I can trust. 

I may not draw aside the mystic veil 
That hides the imknown future from my 

sight ; 
Nor know if for me waits the dark or 

light; 

But I can trust. 

I have no power to look across the tide. 
To see, while here, the land beyond the 

river ; 
But this I know, I shall be God's forever; 
So I can trust. 



The world is wide 
In time and tide. 
And God is guide; 

Then do not hurry. 
That man is blest 
Who does his best 
And leaves the rest; 

Then do not worry. 

—Charles F. Deems. 



WISDOM OF DISCIPLINE 

Whate'er my God ordains is right; 

His will is ever just; 
Howe'er he orders now my cause 
I will be still, and trust. 
He is my God, 
Though dark my road, 
He holds me that I shall not fall, 
Wherefore to him I leave it all. 



Whate'er my God ordains is right; 

He never will deceive; 
He leads me by the proper path. 
And so to him I cleave. 
And take, content. 
What he hath sent; 
His hand can turn my grief away. 
And patiently I wait his day. 

Whate'er my God ordains is right; 

He taketh thought for me; 
The cup that my Physician gives 
No poisoned draught can be, 
But medicine due; 
For God is true; 
And on that changeless truth I build. 
And all my heart with hope is filled. 

Whate'er my God ordains is right; 

Though I the cup must drink 
That bitter seems to my faint heart, 
I will not fear nor shrink; 
Tears pass away 
With dawn of day; 
Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart. 
And pain and sorrow all depart. 

Whate'er my God ordains is right; 

My Light, my Life, is he. 
Who cannot will me aught but good; 
I trust him utterly; 

For well I know. 
In joy or woe. 
We soon shall see, as sunlight clear. 
How faithful was our Guardian here. 

Whate'er my God ordains is right; 

Here will I take my stand ; 
Though sorrow, need, or death, make 
earth 
For me a desert land. 

My Father's care 
Is round me there; 
He holds me that I shall not fall, 
And so to him I leave it all. 

— S. Rodigast. 



TRUST 



189 



MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND 

"My times are in thy hand"; 

My God, I wish them there; 
My life, my friends, my soul, I leave 

Entirely to thy care. 

"My times are in thy hand," 

Whatever they may be; 
Pleasing or painful, dark or bright. 
As best may seem to thee. 

"My times are in thy hand"; 

Why should I doubt or fear? 
My Father's hand will never cause 

His child a needless tear. 

"My times are in thy hand," 

Jesus, the crucified! 
The hand my cruel sins had pierced 

Is now my guard and guide. 

"My times are in thy hand"; 

I'll always trust in thee; 
And, after death, at thy right hand 

I shall forever be. 

— WiUiam F. Lloyd. 



ALL FOR THE BEST 

Away, my needless fears. 
And doubts no longer mine; 

A ray of heavenly light appears, 
A messenger divine. 

Thrice comfortable hope. 

That calms my troubled breast; 
My Father's hand prepares the cup 

And what he wills is best. 

If what I wish is good. 
And suits the will divine. 

By earth and hell in vain withstood, 
I know it shall be mine. 

Still let them counsel take 

To frustrate his decree; 
They cannot keep a blessing back, 

By heaven designed for me. 

Here, then, I doubt no more; 

But in his pleasure rest 
Whose wisdom, love, and truth, and 
power. 
Engage to make me blest. 

— Charles Wesley. 



GOD NEVER FORSAKES 

Leave God to order all thy ways, 
And hope in him, whate'er betide, 

Thou'lt find in him, in evil days. 

Thy all-sufficient strength and guide. 

Who trusts in God's unchanging love 

Builds on the rock that naught can 



What can these anxious cares avail, 
The never-ceasing moans and sighs? 

What can it help us to bewail 
Each painful moment as it flies? 

Our cross and trials do but press 

The heavier for our bitterness. 

Only thy restless heart keep still. 
And wait in cheerful hope, content 

To take whate'er his gracious will. 
His all-discerning love, hath sent. 

Nor doubt our inmost wants are known 

To him who chose us for his own. 

He knows when joyful hours are best; 

He sends them as he sees it meet; 
When thou hast borne the fiery test, 

And now art freed from all deceit, 
He comes to thee all unaware 
And makes thee own his loving care. 

Nor in the heat of pain and strife 

Think God has cast thee off unheard. 

And that the man whose prosperous life 
Thou enviest is of him preferred. 

Time passes, and much change doth 
bring 

And sets a bound to everything. 

All are alike before his face; 

'Tis easy to our God most high 
To make the rich man poor and base. 

To give the poor man wealth and joy; 
True wonders still by him are wrought 
Who setteth up and brings to naught. 

Sing, pray, and swerve not from his 
ways. 
But do thine own part faithfully; 
Trust his rich promises of grace, 

So shall they be fulfilled in thee. 
God never yet forsook at need 
The soul that trusted him indeed. 

— George Neumarck. 



Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell 
The dear Lord ordereth all things well. 
— ^John Greenleaf Whittier. 



IQO 



TRUST 



THE SECRET PLACE 



Thorn is a siifc jviui si'crrl. jjlacr, 
lU'iiciith the wiiij^s (hvino, 

RosiTvi'd for all tin- heirs of grace: 
O be that refuj;e iniiicl 

The least and fi-el)lest there may hide 

Uiiinjund jmd imawed; 
While tlioiisaiuls fall on every side, 

lie rests seeuu' in Cod. 

He feeds in iiastures lar>;e and fair 
Of love ;iud trust divine; 

O child of Cod, O },dory's heir, 
How rich a lot is thine! 

A hand almighty to defend, 

An ear for every call, 
An honori-d life, a peaceful end. 

Anil heaven to crown it all! 

— Henry F. Lyte. 



con KNOWS 



Our Futherl through the coming year 
We know not wli;il shall he; 

Hut we would lea\'e without 11 fear 
Its ordering all to thee. 

It may be we vshall toil in vain 
For what the world holds fair; 

And all the good we thought to gain 
Deceive, and provi" but care. 

It may be it shall darkly blend 
Our love with anxious fears. 

And snatch away the valued friend. 
The tried of many years. 

It may be it sh.'dl bring us days 
And nights of lingering nain; 

And bid us take a farewell gaze 
Of these lovi'd haunts of men. 

But calmly, bord, on thee we rest; 

No fears mu- trust sh.ill move; 
Thou knowest what for each is best, 

And thou art Perfect Love. 

— Eliza Clcghom Gaskell. 



Forever in th(>ir Lord abiding 
Who can their gladness ti>ll; 

Within his love forever hiding, 
They feel that all is well. 



NO FEAR 

I know no lifi* divided, 

O lyord of life, from thoc; 
In thee is life ]irovideil 

l'%)r all mankind and me: 
I know no di-ath, O Jesus, 

Hecatise 1 live in thee; 
Thy tlcath it is which frees us 

From tleath eternally. 

I fear no tribulation, 

Since, whatsoe'er it lie, 
It makes no separation 

Hetween my Lord and me. 
If (hou, my Cod and Tcaclu-r, 

Vouchsafe to be my own, 
I'liough poor, 1 shall be richer 

Than monarch on his throne. 

If while on earth I wander 

My heart is light and blest, 
Ah, what shall I be yonder, 

In perfi'ct jH-ace and rest? 
O ble.s.Sfd thought I in <lying 

We go to miH't the Lord, 
Where there shall be no sighing, 

A kingilom our reward. 

—Carl J . P. Spitla. 



THE LORD'S APPOINTMENT 

1 say it over and ovi'r, and yet again 

to-day, 
It rests my heart as svurly as it did yes- 
terday: 
It is the Lord's appointment; 

Whatever my work may be, 
1 am sure in my lu-art of hearts 
He has olTered it ti> nie. 

I must say it over and over, and again 

to-day 
I'^or my work is dilTi'renl from that, of 
yi>sterday: 
It is the Lord's appointment; 

It quiets my restless will 
Like the voice of a tender mother. 
And my heart and will ntv still. 

1 will say it over and twer, this and 

every day, 
Whatsoever the Master orders, come 
what may: 
It is the Lord's ajipointment; 

For only his love can see 
What is wisest, best and right — 
What is truly good for mc. 



TRUST 



191 



TRUST 

I know iiol. wli;i(. (lu- I'ut.uri! holds, 
Of j^'ood or ill for mc ami iiiiiic; 

I only know tluiL Ciod t-n folds 
Mc in his loving arms divine. 

So I shall walk flu> carlh in tnisl, 

Thai, lie who notes tho sparrow's fall 

Will help nu! hear whale'er 1 must 
And lend an ear whene'er I call. 

It matters not if dreams <lissolv(i 

hike mists beneath the inorninj^' sun, 

I'Nir swifdy as tlx- worlds rcivolvc; 
vSo swiftly will life's race be run. 

It matters not if hopes depart, 

Or life be pn-ssed with toil and eare. 

If lov(! divin<; shall (ill my heart 
And all be sanctilied with prayer. 

Then let me learn submission sweet 
In every thoti^^dit, in eaeh desire. 

And humbly lay at his dear feet 
A heart aglow with heavenly lire. 



"vSOMICTlMIC" 



Sometime, when all life's Ic^ssons have 
been learned, 
And sun and stars forevermore have 
set, 
The things whic:h om- weak judgment 
here had spurned. 
The things o'er which we grieve with 
lashes wet. 
Will flash before us out of life's d.iik 
night. 
As stars shiiu' most in deeper tints of 
blue. 
And we shall see how all Ood's plans 
were right. 
And how what seemed reproof was 
love most true. 

And we sliall see how, while we frown 
and sigh, 
God's plans go on as best for you and 
me; 
How when we called he; heeded not otu- 
cry. 
Because his wisdom to the end could 
sec; 
And even as prudent parents disallow 
Too much of sweet to crooning baby's 
hest, 
So God pcrhai)S is keeping from us now 
Life's sweetest things because it seem- 
cth best. 



And if somcitimeseonnningK'd with life's 
wine 
We lind Ihe wormwood, and rebel and 
shrink, 
He sure a wiser hand than yotus or mine 
Poin-ed out thir potion for our lips to 
drink; 
And if some one we love is lying low, 
Where human kisses can not reach the 
faec!, 
O do not blame the loving l''a,th(M* so, 
Mut w<'ar yoursornjw wilh obedient 
graet!, 

And you will shortly know that length- 
ened breath 
Is not th<! sweetest gift Ood gives his 
friend ; 
And that somi^times the sable pall of 
death 
I'oneeals the fairest boon his lov(! ean 
send. 
If wr. could jiush ajar Ihe gates of life. 
And stand within, and all (lod's work- 
ings S(H', 
We could interpret all this doubt and 
strife, 
And for each mystery could lind a kt^y. 

Mut not to-day. Then bi; content, poor 
heart, 
(lod's plans, like lilies j)ure and white, 
unfold ; 
We must not tear the close-shut leaves 
.'I part, 
Time will reveal the calyxes of gold. 
And if through patient toil we reach the 
land 
When; tired feet wilh satidals loosed 
may rest, 
When we shall clearly know and under- 
stand, 
1 think that wc; will say: "God knew 
the best." 

— May Louise Riley Smith. 



why and whither? (iod knows all; 
I only know that he. is good. 

And that whatever may befall, 

( )r hc!re or there, must be the Ixrst that 
could. 

I'^or He is merciful as just; 

And so, by faith correcting sight, 

1 bow before his will, and trust 
llowe'er they ,s<em he doctli all things 

right. 

— Jcjhn Greenleaf Whittier. 



ig2 



TRUST 



NOT KNOWING 

I know not what shall bofiiU nic; 

(lod hanj^s a misl o'er my eyes, 
And Ihns i-ach stej) of my onward j)alh 

He makes new scenes to rise, 
And every joy he sends me comes 

As a sweet and glad surj)rise. 

I sec not a step before nic 
As I tread on another year; 

Mut (1k> ]);is(. is in (lod's ki-eping, 
The fnlure his merey shall clear, 

And what looks dark in the distance 
May brighten as I draw near. 

]''or perhaps the dreaded future 

Is less bitter than I think; 
'I'he Lord may sweeten (he waters 

M<'fore I stoop to drink. 
Or, if Marah must be Marah, 

He will stand beside its brink. 

It may b(> he ki>(>|)S waiting 

Till the coming of my feet 
Some gift of such rare f)lessedness, 

Some joy so strangely sweet. 
That my lijis shall only tremble 

With tin- thanks they cannot si)eak. 

restful, blissful ignorance! 
"Pis blessed not to know, 

It stills me in those mighty arms 

Which will not let me go, 
And hushes my soul to rest 

On the bosom which loves me sol 

So I go on not knowing; 
I would not, if 1 might ; 

1 would rather walk in lhi> dark with Ood 

'IMian go alone in the light; 
1 would rather walk with him by faitli, 
Than walk alone by sight. 

My heart shriidvS back from trials 

Which the future may disclose, 
Yet T never had a sorrow 

But what the dear Lord chose; 
So I send tile coming li'ars back 

With the whi.spcred word, "He 
knows." 

— Mary Gardner Brainanl. 



"Trust is truer than oiu- fears," 

Rims the legend through the moss; 

"Gain is ncM in added years, 
Nor in death is lo.ss.'' 

— |ohn Greenleaf Whitticr. 



CONFIDO ET CONQUIESCO 

Fret not, ]:)oor soul ; while doubt and fear 

Disttu-b thy breast, 
The pitying angels, who can sec 
How vain thy wild regret must be, 

Say, "Trust and Rest." 

Plan not, nor scheme, but calmly wait; 

His choice is best; 
While blind and erring is thy sight 
His wisdom sees and judges right; 

So 'J'rust and Rest. 

Strive not, nor struggle; thy poor might 

Can nevi'r wrest 
The meanest thing to serve thy will; 
All power is his alone. Be still, 

And Trust and Rest. 

Desire thou not; self-love is strong 

Within thy breast, 
And yet he loves thee better still: 
So lei, him do his loving will, 

And Trust and Rest. 

What dost thou fear? His wisdom reigns 

Supreme confessed; 
His power is infinite; his love 
Thy deepest, fondest dreams above! 

So Trust and Rest. 

— Adelaide Anne Procter. 



BE CAREFUL FOR NOTHING 

My spirit on thy care. 
Blest Savioiu", I recline; 

Thou wilt not leave me to despair, 
I'^or thou art Love divine. 

In 'i'he(> I place my trust. 

On thee I calmlv rest ; 
I know thee good, 1 know thee just, 

And count thy choice the best. 

Whate'cr events betide. 
Thy will they all j)crform; 

Safe in thy breast my head I hide, 
Nor fear the coming storm. 

Let good or ill bef.ill, 
It nmst be good for me; 

Secure of having thee in all. 
Of having all in thee. 

— Henry F. Lytc. 



TRUST 



193 



IN HIM CONFIDING 

SoiiK^tiini'S ;i lij^Iit surprisos 

Tlic t!lirisU;in wliilc lie sings; 
It is Uu' Lord who risfs 

Willi lu'uliiij^ on his wiiif^s. 
Whi'ii coinforls arc dt'cHning 

Ih" ),fnints the soul aj^ain 
A season of clear shiniiij^, 

To cheer it after rain. 

In holy contemplation 

Wt; sweetly tiii-n piu'sue 
The theme of (Jod's salvation, 

And (ind it ever new. 
Set free from jiresent sorrow, 

We eheei"fiilly can say, 
Let the unUnown to-morrow 

Bring with it what it may. 

It can bring with it nothing 

But He will hear us through; 
Who gives the lilies clothing, 

Will clothe his people too. 
Beneath the spreading heavens 

No (creature hut is fed ; 
And He who feeds the ravens 

Will give his children bread. 

Though vine nor fig tree neither 

Their wonted fruit should bear, 
Though all the fields should wilhcr, 

Nor flocks nor herds be there; 
Yet (lod the .same abiding, 

His praise shall time my voice; 
For while in him confiding, 

I cannot but rejoice. 

— William Cow[)er. 



TRUSTING GOD 

Whoever jilants a leaf beneath the sod, 
And waits to see it j)ush away the clod, 
He trusts in God. 

Whoever says, when clouds are in the 

sky, 
"Be |)atient, heart; light breaketh l)y 

and by," 

He trusts in God. 

Whoever sees 'neath winter's field of 

snow 
'i'he silent harvest of the future grow, 
God's power must know. 

Whoever lies down on his couch to sleep, 
Content to lock each sense in shnnber 
dcei), 

Knows God will keep. 



TRUST IN GOD 

The child leans on its j)arent's breast, 
Leaves there its cares and is at rest; 
The bird sits singing l)y his nest, 

And tells aloud 
His trust in (Jod, and so is blest 

'Neatii every cloud. 

Tlt^ has no store, he sows no seed; 
Yet sings aloud, and doth not heed; 
Hy flowing stream or grassy njcad, 

lie sings (o shame 
Mi'U, who forget, in fear of need, 

A I'^athci's name. 

Tile heart that trusts for ever sings, 
And feels as light as it had wings; 
A well of peace within it springs; 

(.ome good or ill. 
Whate'er to-day, to-morrow, brings, 

It is his will. 

— Lsaac Williams. 



NO I'MCARS 



Give to the winds thy fears; 

Hope, and be undismayed; 
God hears thy sighs and coimts thy 
tears ; 

(iod shall lift up (hy head. 

Through waves, and clouds, and storms, 

Ih- g<'ntly «lears thy way; 
Wait thou his time, so shall this night 

Soon end in joyous day. 

Si ill heavy is thy heart? 

Still sink thy spirits down? 
(\ist off the weight, let fear depart, 

And every c;ire be gotie. 

What though thou rulest not? 

Yet heaven, and earth, and hell 
Proclaim, "God sitt.eth on the throne, 

And ruleth all things well." 

Leave 1,0 his sovereign sway 
To choose and to connnand : 

So shalt thou, wondering, own his way. 
How wise, how strong his handl 

l'\ir, far above thy thought, 

His counsel shall apjjcar. 
When fully he the work hat.h wrought 

That caused thy needless fear. 

- Paul Gerh;irdt. 



194 



TRUST 



SIMPLE TRUST 

I do not know why sin aboiinds 

Within this world so fair, 
Why numerous discordant sounds 

Destroy the heavenly air — 
I can't explain this thing, I must 
Rely on God in simple trust. 

I do not know why pain and loss 

Oft fall unto my lot. 
Why I must bear the heavy cross 

When I desire it not — 
I do not know, tmless 'tis just 
To teach my soul in God to trust. 

I know not why the evil seems 

Supreme on every hand: 
Why suffering flows in endless streams 

I do not understand — 
Solution comes not to adjust 
These mysteries. I can but trust. 

I do not know why grief's dark cloud 

Bedims my sunny sky. 
The tear of bitterness allowed 

To swell within my eye — 
But, sorrow-stricken to the dust, 
I will look up to God and trust. 

— R. F. Mayer. 



ALL IS YOURS 

O foolish heart, be still! 

And vex thyself no more! 
Wait thou for God, until 

He open pleasure's door. 
Thou knowest not what is good for thee. 

But God doth know — 
Let him thy strong reliance be, 

And rest thee so. 

He counted all my days, 

And every joy and tear, 
Ere I knew how to praise, 

Or even had learned to fear. 
Before I him my Father knew 

He called me child; 
His help has guarded me all through 

This weary wild. 

The least of all my cares 

Is not to him unknown — 
He sees and he prepares 

The pathway for his own; 
And what his hand assigns to me. 

That serves my peace; 
The greatest burden it might be, 

Yet joys increase. 



I live no more for earth; 

Nor seek my full joy here ; 
The world seems little worth 

When heaven is shining clear. 
Yet joyfully I go my way 

So free, so blest! 
Sweetening my toil from day to day 

With thoughts of rest. 

Give me, my Lord, whate'er 
Will bind my heart to thee; 

For that I make my prayer, 
And know thou hearest me! 

But all that might keep back my soul — 
Make thee forgot — 

Though of earth-good it were the whole, 

give it not! 

When sickness, pains, distress, 

And want doth follow fear, 
And men their hate express, 

My sky shall still be clear. 
Then wait I, Lord, and wait for thee; 

And I am still. 
Though mine should unaccomplished be, 

Do thou thy will! 

Thou art the strength and stay 

Of every weary soul; 
Thy wisdom rules the way 

Thy pity does control. 
What ill can happen unto me 

When thou art near? 
Thou wilt, O God, my keeper be; 

1 will not fear. 

— Christian F. Gellert (1715-1769). 



I SHALL NOT WANT 

I shall not want: in desert wilds 
Thou spreadst thy table for thy child ; 
While grace in streams, for thirsting 

souls. 
Through earth and heaven forever rolls. 

I shall not want: my darkest night 
Thy lovely smile shall fill with light; 
While promises around me bloom. 
And cheer me with divine perfume. 

I shall not want: thy righteousness 
My soul shall clothe with glorious dress ; 
My blood- washed robe shall be more fair 
Than garments kings or angels wear. 

I shall not want: whate'er is good 
Of daily bread or angels' food ■ 
Shall to my Father's child be sure, 
So long as earth and heaven endure. 
— Charles F. Deems. 



TRUST 



195 



NO CARES 

O Lord! how happy should we be 
If we could leave our cares to thee; 

If we from self could rest, 
And feel at heart that One above, 
In perfect wisdom, perfect love, 

Is working for the best. 

For when we kneel and cast our care 
Upon our God, in humble prayer. 

With strengthened souls we rise; 
Sure that our Father, who is nigh 
To hear the ravens when they cry, 

Will hear his children's cries. 

How far from this our daily life ; 
How oft disturbed by anxious strife. 

By sudden wild alarm! 
O could we but relinquish all 
Our earthly props and simply fall 

On thine Almighty arms! 

We cannot trust him as we should. 
So chafes weak nature's restless mood 

To cast its peace away; 
But birds and flowers around us preach 
All, all, the present evil teach. 

Sufficient for the day. 

O may these anxious hearts of ours 
The lesson learn from birds and flowers, 

And learn from self to cease. 
Leave all things to our Father's will. 
And, in his mercy trusting, still 

Find in each trial peace. 

— Joseph Anstice. 



CARE CAST ON GOD 

Lord, I delight in thee. 

And on thy care depend; 
To thee in every trouble flee, 

My best, my only Friend. 

When nature's streams are dried 
Thy fullness is the same; 

With this will I be satisfied, 
And glory in thy name. 

Who made my heaven secure 
Will here all good provide; 

While Christ is rich can I be poor? 
What can I want beside? 

I cast my care on thee; 

I triumph and adore; 
Henceforth my great concern shall be 

To love and please thee more. 

— John Ryland. 



GOD KNOWS ALL 

Nay, all by Thee is ordered, chosen, 
planned ; 

Each drop that fills my daily cup; thy 
hand 

Prescribes for ills none else can under- 
stand. 
All, all is known to thee. 

Be trustful, be steadfast, whatever be- 
tide thee, 
Only one thing do thou ask of the 
Lord — 
Grace to go forward wherever he guide 
thee. 
Simply believing the truth of his word. 

Whatsoe'er our lot may be, 

Calmly in this thought we'll rest 

Could we see as thou dost see 
We should choose it as the best. 

— Eliza Cleghom Gaskell. 



O FOR A PERFECT TRUST 

O for the peace of a perfect trust. 

My loving God, in thee; 
Unwavering faith, that never doubts. 

Thou choosest best for me. 

Best, though my plans be all upset; 

Best, though the way be rough; 
Best, though my earthly store be scant ; 

In thee I have enough. 

Best, though my health and strength be 
gone. 

Though weary days be mine, 
Shut out from much that others have; 

Not my will, Lord, but thine! 

And even though disappointments come. 
They, too, are best for me — 

To wean me from this changing world 
And lead me nearer thee. 

O for the peace of a perfect trust 

That looks away from all; 
That sees thy hand in everything. 

In great events or small; 

That hears thy voice — a Father's voice — 

Directing for the best; 
O for the peace of a perfect trust, 

A heart with thee at rest! 



196 



TRUST 



A SONG OF TRUST 

I cannot always see the way that leads 

To heights above; 
I sometimes quite forget that he leads on 

With hands of love; 
But yet I know the path must lead me to 

Immanuel's land. 
And when I reach life's summit I shall 
know 

And understand. 

I cannot always trace the onward course 

My ship must take, 
But, looking backward, I behold afar 

Its shining wake 
Illumined with God's light of love ; and 
so 

I onward go. 
In perfect trust that he who holds the 
helm 

The course must know. 

I cannot always see the plan on which 

He builds my life; 
For oft the sound of hammers, blow on 
blow. 

The noise of strife, 
Confuse me till I quite forget he knows 

And oversees, 
And that in all details with his good plan 

My life agrees. 

I cannot always know and understand 

The Master's riile; 
I cannot always do the tasks he gives 

In life's hard school; 
But I am learning, with his help, to solve 

Them one by one, 
And, when I cannot understand, to say, 

"Thy will be done." 

— Gertrude Benedict Custis. 



ALL IS WELL 

The clouds which rise with thunder 
slake 

Our thirsty souls with rain; 
The blow most dreaded falls to break 

From off our limbs a chain; 
And wrongs of man to man but make 

The love of God more plain. 
As through the shadowy lens of even 
The eye looks farthest into heaven — 
On gleams of star and depths of blue 
The glaring sunshine never knew. 

— ^Johh Greenleaf Whittier. 



CHOOSE FOR US, GOD 

Still will we trust, though earth seem 
dark and dreary. 
And the heart faint beneath his 
chastening rod; 
Though rough and steep our pathway, 
worn and weary, 
Still will we trust in God. 

Our eyes see dimly till by faith anointed. 
And our blind choosing brings us grief 
and pain; 
Through him alone who hath our way 
appointed, 
We find our peace again. 

Choose for us, God! nor let our weak 
preferring 
Cheat our poor souls of good thou hast 
designed ; 
Choose for us, God! thy wisdom is un- 
erring. 
And we are fools and blind. 

Let us press on in patient self-denial. 
Accept the hardship, shrink not from 
the loss; 
Our portion lies beyond the hour of trial, 
Our crown beyond the cross. 

— William H. Burleigh. 



ALL THINGS WORK GOOD 

With strength of righteous purpose in 

the heart 
What cause to fear for consequence of 

deed? 
God guideth then, not we; nor do we 

need 
To care for aught but that we play our 

part. 
Most simple trust is often highest art. 
The issue we would fly may be a seed 
Ordained by God to bear our souls a 

meed 
Of peace that no self-judging could im- 
part. 
"All things work good for him who 

trusteth God!" 
Doth God not love us with a longing love 
To make us happy, and hath he not 

sight 
From end to end of our short earthly 

road? 
This, Lord, I hold — aye, know that thou 

wouldst move 
The world to lead one trusting soul 

aright. — Edward Harding. 



TRUST 



197 



RELIGIOUS INFIDELS 

How many chatterers of a creed 
Think doubt the gravest sin, 

Unmindful of her double birth — 
For worry is her twin. 

Ah! Christian atheism seems 

The most insulting kind, 
For, though the tongue says, God is love, 

The heart is deaf and blind. 

How he who marks the sparrow's fall 

Must be aggrieved to see 
These loud lip-champions manifest 

Such infidelity I 

Each fretful line upon their brow, 

Dug by the plow of care, 
Is treason to their pledge of faith 

And satire on their prayer. 

O just to hold, without one fear. 
The strong, warm Hand above, 

With orthodoxy of the heart — 
The childlike creed of love I 

None such can be a heretic; 

Nay, only he forsooth 
Who lives the falsity of doubt, 

But prates the cant of truth. 

— Frederic Lawrence Knowlcs. 



Worry and Fret were two little men 
That knocked at my door again and 

again. 
"O pray let us in, but to tarry a night, 
And we will be off with the dawning of 

light." 
At last, moved to pity, I opened the door 
To shelter these travelers, hungry and 

poor; 
But when on the morrow I bade them 

"Adieu." 
They said, quite unmoved, "We'll tarry 

with you." 
And, deaf to entreaty and callous to 

threat. 
These troublesome guests abide with me 

yet. 



Yet, in the maddening maze of things. 
And tossed by storm and flood, 

To one fixed trust my spirit clings: 
I know that God is good! 

— ^John Greenleaf Whittier. 



MAKE THY WAY MINE 

Father, hold thou my hand; 
The way is steep; 
I cannot see the path my feet must keep, 
I cannot tell, so dark the tangled way. 

Where next to step. O stay; 
Come close ; take both my hands in thine ; 

Make thy way mine I 

Lead me. I may not stay; 
I must move on; but oh, the way! 

I must be brave and go. 
Step forward in the dark, nor know 
If I shall reach the goal at all — 

If I shall fall. 

Take thou my hand. 
Take it! Thou knowest best 
How I should go, and all the rest 

I cannot, cannot see: 
Lead me : I hold my hands to thee ; 

I own no will but thine; 

Make thy way mine! 



MY PSALM 



All as God wills, who wisely heeds 

To give or to withhold; 
And knoweth more of all my needs 

Than all my prayers have told! 

Enough that blessings undeserved 
Have marked my erring track; 

That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved, 
His chastening turned me back ; 

That more and more a Providence 

Of love is imderstood. 
Making the springs of time and sense 

Sweet with eternal good; 

That death seems but a covered way 

Which opens into light. 
Wherein no blinded child can stray 

Beyond the Father's sight. 

— John GreenleaiE Whittier. 



What most you wish and long for 
Might only bring you pain; 

You cannot see the future, 
God's purpose to explain. 

So trust, faint heart, thy Master! 

He doeth all things well. 
He loveth more than heart can guess, 

And more than tongue can tell. 



X98 



TRUST 



BETTER TRUST 

Better trust all and be deceived, 

And weep that trust and that de- 
ceiving, 

Than doubt one heart that, if believed, 
Had blest one's life with true believing. 

Oh, in this mocking world too fast 
The doubting fiend o'ertakes our 
youth ; 
Better be cheated to the last 

Than lose the blessed hope of truth. 
— Frances Anne Kemble. 



Be patient; keep thy lifework 

Well in hand; 
Be trustful where thou canst not 

Understand ; 
Thy lot, whate'er it be, is 

Wisely planned; 
Whate'er its mysteries, God holds the 

key; 
Thou well canst trust him, and bide 
patiently. 



There is never a day so dreary 

But God can make it bright; 
And unto the sovil that trusts him 

He giveth songs in the night. 
There is never a path so hidden 

But God will show the way, 
If we seek the Spirit's guidance 

And patiently watch and pray. 



Build a little fence of trust 

Around to-day; 
Fill the space with loving deeds. 

And therein stay. 
Look not through the sheltering bars 

Upon to-morrow; 
God will help thee bear what comes 

Of joy or sorrow. 

— Mary Frances Butts. 



your 



On God for all events depend ; 
You cannot want when God's 

friend. 

Weigh well your part and do yoiar best ; 
Leave to yotu- Maker all the rest. 

— Cotton. 



OUR STRONG STAY 

Then, O my soul, be ne'er afraid; 

On him who thee and all things made 

With calm reliance rest ; 
Whate'er may come, where'er we go, 
Our Father in the heavens must know 

In all things what is best. 

— Paul Fleming. 



If the wren can cling 
To a spray a-swing 

In the mad May wind, and sing and sing 
As if she'd burst for joy — 

Why cannot I 
Contented lie 

In his quiet arms, beneath his sky, 
Unmoved by life's annoy. 
— Robert Haven Schauffler. 

i^. He- 

Be like the bird that, halting in her flight 

Awhile on boughs too slight, 

Feels them give way beneath her and yet 

sings — 
Knowing that she hath wings. 

— Victor Hugo. 



Let not your heart be troubled, Jesus 

said; 
Let not your heart be troubled or afraid. 
My peace into your hands I freely give ; 
Trust in your God, and in his precepts 

live. 



Thunder, lightning, fire and rain, 
Poverty, sorrow, loss and gain, 
Death and heaven, and earth and hell, 
For us must work together well. 



With patient course thy path of duty 

run 
God nothing does, or suffers to be done. 
But thou wouldst do the same if thou 

couldst see 
The end of all events as well as he. 



I welcome all thy sovereign will. 

For all that will is love; 
And when I know not what thou dost, 

I wait the light above. 



GOD'S CARE 

PROVIDENCE, GOD'S KNOWLEDGE AND BENEFICENCE 



CONSIDER THE RAVENS 

Lord, according to thy words, 
I have considered thy birds; 
And I find their life good, 
And better, the better understood; 
Sowing neither com nor wheat 
They have all that they can eat ; 
Reaping no more than they sow 
They have more than they could stow; 
Having neither bam nor store. 
Hungry again they eat more. 

Considering, I see too that they 
Have a busy life, but plenty of play; 
In the earth they dig their bills deep. 
And work well, though they do not 

heap; 
Then to play in the way they are not 

loth. 
And their nests between are better than 

both. 

But this is when there blow no storms. 
When berries are plenty in winter, and 

worms. 
When feathers are rife, with oil enough 
To keep the cold out and send the rain 

off; 
If there come, indeed, a long, hard frost. 
Then it looks as though thy birds were 

lost. 

But I consider further and find 
A hungry bird has a free mind ; 
He is hungry to-day, but not to-morrow, 
Steals no comfort, no grief doth borrow; 
This moment is his, thy will hath said it. 
The next is nothing till Thou hast made 
it. 

The bird has pain, but has no fear — 
Which is the worst of any gear; 
When cold and hunger and harm betide 

him, 
He does not take them and stuff inside 

him; 
Content with the day's ill he has got. 
He waits just, nor haggles with his lot; 
Neither jumbles God's will 
With driblets from his own still. 



But next I see, in my endeavor. 
The birds here do not live forever; 
That cold or hunger, sickness or age, 
Finishes their earthly stage; 
The rooks drop in cold nights. 
Leaving all their wrongs and rights; 
Birds lie here and birds lie there 
With their feathers all astare; 
And in thine own sermon, thou 
That the sparrow falls dost allow. 

It shall not cause me any alarm, 
For neither so comes the bird to harm, 
Seeing our Father, thou hast said, 
Is by the sparrow's dying bed ; 
Therefore it is a blessed place, 
And a sharer in high grace. 

It cometh therefore to this. Lord: 
I have considered thy word ; 
And henceforth will be thy bird. 

— George Macdonald. 



■ GOD KEEPS HIS OWN 

I do not know whether my future lies 

Through calm or storm; 
Whether the way is strewn with broken 
ties. 

Or friendships warm. 

This much I know: Whate'er the path- 
way trod. 

All else unknown, 
I shall be guided safely on, for God 

Will keep his own. 

Clouds may obscure the sky, and drench- 
ing rain 
Wear channels deep; 
And haggard want, with all her bitter 
train. 
Make angels weep. 

And those I love the best, beneath the 
sod 
May sleep alone; 
But through it all I shall be led, for God 
Will keep his own. 

— Sarah Knowles Bolton. 



199 



900 



GOD'S CARE 



CARE THOU FOR ME 

Care Thou for mc! Let me not card 
Too weak nni I, doar Lord, to boar 
The heavy hunlins of Ihi- day; 

And oft 1 walk with craven ifeet 
UjuMi hfe's rouj^h and loilsome way; 
How sweet to feel, how jjassin^' 
sweet, 
Thy watchful ])rescnce everywhere! 
Care Thou for me ! Let me not care I 

Care Thou for mo! Why should I care, 
And looks of j^looniy sadm-ss wear, 
Anil frel lu-eause I eannot see 

(Thy wisdom doth ordain it so) 

The i)a(h thou hast marked tnit for 

me ? 

My Father's i)lan is best, 1 know, 

It will bo lijjht, sometime — somewhi-rc — 

Care thou for me! Why should I care? 

Care Thou for mo! Lot me not care! 
This, oaeh now day, shall be my ])rayer; 
Thou, who canst read my inmost 
heart, 
Dost know 1 am oxooodinj^ frail; 
Hoth just and merciful thou art. 
Whoso loving kindness ne'er shall 
fail; 
My human nature thou wilt spare; 
Care Thou for me! I will not care! 



THE SPARROW 

I am only a little sparrow, 

A bird of low dej^roo; 
My life is of little value, 

But the dear Lord cares for me. 

lie gave mo a coat of feathers; 

It is very ])lain, I know. 
With never a speck of crimson, 

For it was not made for show, 

Rut it keeps mo warm in winter, 
AtuI it shields me from the rain; 

Were it bonlerod with gold or ])urple 
Perhajis it would make me vain. 

I have n(^ barn or storehouse, 

I neither sow nor reap; 
God gives mo a sparrow's portion, 

But never a seed to keep. 

If my meal is sometimes scanty, 
Close picking makes it sweet ; 

I have always enough to feed me, 
And "life is more than meat." 



I know there arc many sparrows. 
All over the world we are fouiul ; 

But our heavenly I'^ither knowelh 
Wlien one of us falls to the ground. 

Thovigh small, we are not forgotten; 

Though weak we are never afraid; 
Ji'or wo know that the dear Lord keopetli 

The life of the creatures he made. 



HE KNOWETII ALL 

The twilight falls, the night is near, 

1 fold my work away 
And kneel to One who bonds to hear 

The story of the day. 

The old, old story, yet I kneel 

To tell it at lliy call; 
And cares grow lightiT as I feel 

That Jesus knows them all. 

Yes, all! The morning and the night, 
The joy, thi' grief, the kxss, 

The roughened ])ath, the sunbean\ 
bright. 
The hourly thorn and cross — 

Thou knowost all; I lean my head. 

My weary eyelids close. 
Content and glad awhile to tread 

This path, since Jesus knows! 

And he has \owi\ me! All my heart 
With answi-ring love is stirred. 

And every anguislied pain antl smart 
Finds healing in the Word. 

So hiM-o I lay me down to rest, 

As nightly shadows fall. 
And lean, conliding, on his breast, 

Who knows and ])ities all! 



If to Jesus for relief 

My'soul has lied by prayer, 
Why should I give way to grief 

Or lieart-consuming carer 
While I know his ]>rovidence 

Disposes each event 
Shall 1 judge by feeble sense, 

And yield to discontent? 
Si>arrows if he kindly food, 

And verdure clothe in rich array, 
Can ho see a chiUl in need. 

And turn his eyes away? 



GOD'S CARE 



HE NEVER FORGETS 

Nay, nay, do not tell me that God will 
not hear me. 
I know he is high over all, 
Yet I know just as well that he always 
is near me 
And never forgets me at all. 

He shows not his face, for its glory 
would blind mc, 
Yet I walk on my way unafraid ; 
Though lost in the desert He surely 
would lind mc 
His angels would come to my aid. 

He sits on his throne in the wonderful 
city, 

And I — I am ashes and dust! 
Yet I am at rest in His wonderful pity, 

And I in his promises trust. 

He lighteth the stars, and they shine in 
their places; 
He maketh his sun like a flame; 
But better and brighter to Him are the 
faces 
Of mortals that call on his name. 

Nay, nay! do not tell mc that, wrapped 

in his glory. 

He hears not my voice when I cry; 

He made me! He loves mel He knows 

all my story! 

I shall look on his face by and by! 



THE SURE REFUGE 

I know the Hand that is guiding me 
Through the shadow to the light; 

And I know that all betiding me 
Is meted out aright. 

1 know that the thorny path I tread 
Is ruled with a golden line; 

And I know that the darker life's tangled 
thread 
The brighter the rich design. 

When faints and fails each wilderness 
hope, 
And the lamp of faith bums dim, 
O I I know where to find the honey drop 

On the bitter chalice brim. 
For I see, though veiled from my mortal 
sight, 
God's plan is all complete; 
Though the darkness at present be not 
light. 
And the bitter be not sweet. 



I can wait till the dayspring shall over- 
flow 
The night of pain and care; 
For I know there's a blessing for every 
woe, 
A promise for every prayer. 
Yes, I feel that the Hand which is hold- 
ing me 
Will ever hold me fast; 
And the strength of the arms that arc 
folding me 
Will keep me to the last. 



FOLLOWING 



As God leads me will I go, 

Nor choose my way. 
Let him choose the joy or woe 

Of every day; 
They cannot hurt my soul, 
Because in his control; 
I leave to him the whole — 

His children may. 

As God leads me I am still 

Within his hand; 
Though his purpose my self-will 

Doth oft withstand; 
Yet I wish that none 
But his will be done 
Till the end be won 

That he hath planned. 

As God leads I am content; 

He will take care! 
All things by his will are sent 

That I must bear; 
To him I take my fear. 
My wishes, while I'm here; 
The way will all seem clear, 

When I am there! 

As God leads me it is mine 

To follow him; 
Soon all shall wonderfully shine 

Which now seems dim. 
Fulfilled be his decree! 
What he shall choose for me 
That shall my portion be, 

Up to the brim! 

As God leads me so my heart 

In faith shall rest. 
No grief nor fear my soul shall part 

From Jesus' breast. 
In sweet belief I know 
What way my life doth go — 
Since God permitteth so — 

That must be best. 

— L. Gedicke. 



GOD'S CARE 



"YOUR HEAVENLY FATHER 
KNOWETH" 

There are two words of light divine 
That fall upon this heart of mine. 
That thrill me in the hour of gain, 
That still me in the hour of pain : 
Two words endued with magic power, 
Suflicient unto any hour — 
He knows. 

As summer breezes, cool and svi>'cet, 
Bring rest, relief from toil and heat; 
As showers, needed as they fall, 
Renew, refresh and comfort all; 
So to my feverish heart is given 
This loving message, fresh from heaven: 
He knows. 

My fainting heart finds strength in this, 
My himgry heart here seeks its bliss; 
Here angry billows never surge. 
Here death can never sing its dirge; 
My rising fears, with murmuring fraught, 
Find sudden calm beneath this thought : 
He knows. 

O lullaby for children grown! 
O nectar sweet for lips thdt moan! 
O balm to stricken hearts oppressed! 
O pillow where worn heads may rest! 
All joy, all comfort in thee meet, 
O blessed words, surpassing sweet, 
He knows. 



FEAR NOT ^ 

Don't you trouble trouble 
Till trouble troubles you. 

Don't you look for trouble; 
Let trouble look for you. 

Don't you borrow sorrow; 

You 11 surely have your share. 
He who dreams of sorrow 

Will find that sorrow's there. 

Don't you hurry worry 
By worrying lest it come. 

To flurry is to worry, 

'Twill miss yott if you're minn. 

If care you've got to carry 
Wait till 'tis at the door; 

For he who runs to meet it 
Takes up the load before. 

If minding will not mend it, 
Then better not to mind; 

The best thing is to end it — 
Just leave it all behind. 



Who feareth hath forsaken 
The Heavenly Father's side; 

What he hath undertaken 
He surely will provide. 

The very birds reprove thee 
With all their happy song; 

The very flowers teach thee 
That fretting is a wrong. 

"Cheer up," the sparrow chirpeth, 
"Thy Father fecdeth me; 

Think how much more he careth, 
O lonely child, for thee I" 

"Fear not," the flowers whisper; 

"Since thus he hath arrayed 
The buttercup and daisy. 

How canst thou be afraid?" 

Then don't you trouble trouble, 
Till trouble troubles you; 

You'll only double trouble, 
And trouble others too. 



HE LEADS US ON 

He leads us on 
By paths we did not know; 
Upward he leads us, though our steps 

be slow, 
Though oft we faint and falter on the 

way, 
Though storms and darkness oft obscure 
the day, 
Yet when the clouds are gone 
We know he leads us on. 

He leads us on. 
Through all the unquiet years; 
Past all our dreamland hopes, and 

doubts, and fears, 
He guides our steps. Through all the 

tangled maze 
Of sin, of sorrow, and o'erclouded days 
We know his will is done; 
And still he leads us on. 

And he, at last, 
After the weary strife — 
After the restless fever we call life — 
After the dreariness, the aching pain, 
The wayward struggles which have 
proved in vain, 

After our toils are past. 

Will give us rest at last. 



GOD'S CARE 



203 



THE DEVIL IS A FOOL 

Saint Dominic, the glory of the schools. 

Writing, one day, ' The Inquisition's' 
rules, 

Stopt, when the evening came, for want 
of light. 

The devils, who below from mom till 
night, 

Well pleased, had seen his work, ex- 
claimed with sorrow, 

"Something he will forget before to- 
morrow! " 

One zealous imp flew upward from the 
place. 

And stood before him, with an angel 
face. 

"I come," said he, "sent from God's 
Realm of Peace, 

To light you, lest your holy labors cease." 

Well pleased, the saint wrote on with 
careful pen. 

The candle was consumed ; the devil then 

Lighted his thumb; the saint, quite un- 
disturbed. 

Finished his treatise to the linal word. 

Then he looked up, and started with 
affright ; 

For lo! the thumb blazed with a lurid 
light. 

"Your thumb is burned I " said he. 1 he 
child of sin 

Changed to his proper form, and with a 
grin 

Said, " I will quench it in the martyrs 
blood 

Your book will cause to flow — a crimson 
flood I" 

Triumphantly the fiend returned to ht-U 
And told his story. Satan said, " 'Tis 

well! 
Your aim was good, but foolish was the 

deed; 
For blood of martyrs is the Church's 

seed." 

— Herder, tr. by James Freeman 
Clarke. 



PROVIDENCE 



We all acknowledge both thy power and 
love 
To be exact, transcendent, and divine ; 
Who dost so strongly and .so sweetly 
move. 
While all things have thcjr will, yet 
none but thine. 



For either thy command or thy per- 
mission 

Lay hands on all : they are thy right and 
left: 

The first puts on with speed and expe- 
dition; 
The other curbs sin's stealing pace 
and theft. 

Nothing escapes them both; all must 
appear 
And be disposed and dressed and 
tuned by thee. 
Who sweetly tempcrest all. If we could 
hear 
Thy skill and art what music would 
it be! 

Thou art in small things great, nor small 
in any; 
Thv even praise can neither rise nor 
fall. 
Thou art in all things one, in each thing 
many; 
For thou art infinite in one and all. 
— George Herbert. 



THE MYSTERIOUS WAY 

God moves in a mysterious way 

His wonders to perform; 
He plants his footsteps in the sea 

And rides upon the storm. 

Deep in unfathomable mines 

Of never-failing skill. 
He treasures up his bright designs 

And works his sovereign will. 

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take: 
The clouds ye so much dread 

Are big with mercy, and shall break 
In blessings on your head. 

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 
But trust him for his grace; 

Behind a frowning providence 
He hides a smiling face. 

His purposes will ripen fast. 

Unfolding every hour; 
The bud may have a bitter taste. 

But sweet will be the flower. 

Blind unbelief is sure to err. 
And .scan his work in vain; 

God is his own inter[)reter. 
And he will make it plain. 

— William Cowper. 



204 



GOD'S CARE 



DISAPPOINTMENT 

Our yet unfinished story 

Is tending all to this: 
To God the greatest glory, 

To us the greatest bliss. 

If all things work together 
For ends so grand and blest, 

What need to wonder whether 
Each in itself is best! 

If some things were omitted, 

Or altered as we would, 
The whole might be unfitted 

To work for perfect good. 

Our plans may be disjointed. 
But we may calmly rest; 

What God has once appointed. 
Is better than our best. 

We cannot see before us. 

But our all-seeing Friend 
Is always watching o'er us. 

And knows the very end. 

What though we seem to stumble ? 

He will not let us fall; 
And learning to be humble 

Is not lost time at all. 

What though we fondly reckoned 

A smoother way to go 
Than where his hand hath beckoned ? 

It will be better so. 

What only seemed a barrier 
A stepping-stone shall be; 

Our God is no long tarrier, 
A present help is he. 

And when amid our blindness 

His disappointments fall, 
We trust his loving-kindness 

Whose wisdom sends them all; 

The discord that involveth 
Some startling change of key. 

The Master's hand revolveth 
In richest harmony. 

Then tremble not, and shrink not, 
When disappointment nears; 

Be trustful still, and think not 
To realize all fears. 

While we are meekly kneeling 

We shall behold her rise, 
Our Father's love revealing, 

An angel, in disguise. 

— Frances Ridley Havergal. 



GOD'S CARE 

Not a brooklet floweth 

Onward to the sea, 
Not a sunbeam gloweth 

On its bosom free, 
Not a seed vmfoldeth 

To the glorious air, 
But our Father holdeth 

It within his care. 

Not a floweret fadeth. 

Not a star grows dim. 
Not a cloud o'ershadeth, 

But 'tis marked by him. 
Dream not that thy gladness 

God doth fail to see; 
Think not in thy sadness 

He forgetteth thee. 

Not a tie is broken, 

Not a hope laid low, 
Not a farewell spoken. 

But our God doth know. 
Every hair is numbered. 

Every tear is weighed 
In the changeless balance 

Wisest Love has made. 

Power eternal resteth 

In his changeless hand; 
Love immortal hasteth 

Swift at his command. 
Faith can firmly trust him 

In the darkest hour. 
For the keys she holdeth 

To his love and power. 



"I WILL ABIDE IN THINE HOUSE" 

Among so many can he care? 
Can special love be everywhere? 
A myriad homes — a myriad ways — 
And God's eye over every place? 

Over; but in? The world is full; 
A grand omnipotence must rule; 
But is there life that doth abide 
With mine own, loving, side by side? 

So many, and so wide abroad; 
Can any heart have all of God? 
From the great spaces vague and dim, 
May one small household gather him? 

I asked ; my soul bethought of this : 
In just that very place of his 
Where he hath put and keepeth you, 
God hath no other thing to do. 

— Adeline Dutton Train Whitney. 



GOD'S CARE 



205 



CONSTANT CARE 

How gentle God's commands! 

How kind his precepts are! 
Come, cast your burdens on the Lord, 

And trust his constant care. 

Beneath his watchful eye 

His saints securely dwell; 
That hand which bears all nature up 

Shall guard his children well. 

Why should this anxious load 
Press down your weary mind? 

Haste to your heavenly Father's throne 
And sweet refreshment find. 

His goodness stands approved, 
Unchanged from day to day; 

I'll drop my burden at his feet, 
And bear a song away. 

— Philip Doddridge. 



THOU KNOWEST 

Thou knowest, Lord, the weariness and 
sorrow 
Of the sad heart that comes to thee 
for rest. 

Cares of to-day and burdens for to- 
morrow, 
Blessings implored, and sins to be 
confest, 

I come before thee, at thy gracious word. 

And lay them at thy feet. Thou know- 
est, Lord! 

Thou knowest all the past — how long 
and blindly 
On the dark mountains the lost wan- 
derer strayed, 

How the good Shepherd followed, and 
how kindly 
He bore it home upon his shoulders 
laid, 

And healed the bleeding wounds, and 
soothed the pain, 

And brought back life, and hope, and 
strength again. 

Thou knowest all the present — each 

temptation. 
Each toilsome duty, each foreboding 

fear; 
All to myself assigned of tribulation, 
Or to beloved ones than self more 

dear! 
All pensive memories, as I journey on. 
Longings for sunshine and for music 

gone! 



Thou knowest all the future — gleams of 
gladness 
By stormy clouds too quickly over- 
cast — 

Hours of sweet fellowship and parting 
sadness. 
And the dark river to be crossed at 
last: 

Oh, what could confidence and hope 
afford 

To tread this path, but this — Thou 
knowest, Lord! 

Thou knowest not alone as God — all- 
knowing — 
As man our mortal weakness thou hast 
proved 

On earth; with purest sympathies o'er- 
fiowing, 
O Saviour, thou hast wept, and thou 
hast loved. 

And love and sorrow still to thee may 
come 

And find a hiding-place, a rest, a home. 

Therefore I come, thy gentle call obey- 
ing. 
And lay my sins and sorrows at thy 
feet; 

On everlasting strength my weakness 
staying. 
Clothed in thy robe of righteousness 
complete. 

Then rising, and refreshed, I leave thy 
throne. 

And follow on to know as I am known! 



A GREAT DIFFERENCE 

Men lose their ships, the eager things 

To try their luck at sea. 
But none can tell, by note or count, 

How many there may be. 

One tumeth east, another south — 

They never come again, 
And then we know they must have sunk. 

But neither how nor when. 

God sends his happy birds abroad — 
"They're less than ships," say we; 

No moment passes but he knows 
How many there should be. 

One buildeth high, another low. 
With just a bird's light care — 

If only one, perchance, doth fall, 
God knoweth when and where. 



2o6 



GOD'S CARE 



HE CARETH FOR YOU 

If I could only surely know 

That all these things that tire me so 

Were noticed by my Lord. 
The panjT that cuts me like a knife, 
The lesser pains of daily life, 
The noise, the weariness, the strife, 

What peace it would afford 1 

I wonder if he really shares 
In all my little human cares, 

This mij:;hty Kinji; of kinps. 
If he who jj;ui(U>s oatli lilazinjj; star 
'I'hrouph realms of boundless space afar 
Without confusion, sound or jar. 

Stoops to these petty things. 

It seems to me, if sure of this. 
Blent with each ill would come such 
■ bliss 

That I might covet pain. 
And deem whatever brought to nic 
The loving thought of Deity, 
And sense of Christ's sweet sympathy. 

No loss, but richest gain. 

Dear Lord, my heart hath not a doubt 
That thou dost comjiass me about 

With sympathy divine. 
The love for me once crucified 
Is not a love to leave my side, 
But waiteth ever to divide 

Each smallest care of mine. 



MOMENT BY MOMENT 

Never a trial that He is not there; 
Never a burden that He doth not bear; 
Never a sorrow that He dolh not share. 
Moment by moment I'm under his care. 

Never a heart-ache, and never a groan, 
Never a tear-drop, and never a moan. 
Never a danger but there, on (he throne, 
Moment by moment, He thinks of his 
own. 

Never a weakness that He doth not feel; 
Never a sickness that He cannot heal. 
Moment by moment, in woe or in weal, 
Jesus, my Saviour, abides with me still. 
—Daniel W. Whittle. 



There's a divinit y that sha])es our ends 
Rough-hew them how we will. 

— William Shakespeare. 



EVENING HYMN 

It is the evening hour, 

And thankfully, 
Father, thy weary child 

Has come to thee. 

I lean my aching head 

Upon thy breast. 
And there, and only there, 

I am at rest. 

Thou knowest all my life. 

Each petty sin, 
Notliing is hid from thee 

Without, within. 

All that I have or am 

Is wholly thine. 
So is my soul at peace, 

For thou art mine. 

To-morrow's dawn may find 

Me here, or there; 
It matters little, since thy love 

Is everywhere! 



THE BELIEVER'S HERITAGE 

No care can come where God doth guard ; 

No ill befall whom he doth keep; 
In safety hid, of trouble rid, 

I lay me down in peace and sleep. 

I wholly love thy holy name; 

I hail with glee thy glorious will; 
Where'er I go, 'tis joy to know 

That thou, my Kmg, art near me still. 

Thy power immense, consummate, 
grand. 

Thy wisdom, known to thee alone, 
'I'hy jierfect love, all thought above, 

Make me a sharer in thy throne. 

With thee abiding none can fear. 
Nor lack, of every good possessed; 

Thv grace avails, whate'er assails. 
And I in thee am fully blest. 

Then leap, my heart, exultant, strong, 
Cast every doubt and weight away; 

Give thanks and praise to God always, 
For he will guide to perfect day! 

— James Mudge. 



1 



GOD'S CARE 



207 



"HE CARETH FOR THEE" 

What can it mean? Is it aught to him 
That the nights are long and the days 

are dim? 
Can he be touched by griefs I bear 
Which sadden the heart and whiten the 

hair? 
Around his throne are eternal calms, 
And strong, glad music of happy psalms, 
And bliss unruffled by any strife. 
How can he care for my poor life ? 

And yet I want him to care for me 

While I live in this world where the sor- 
rows be; 

When the lights die down on the path I 
take, 

When strength is feeble, and friends for- 
sake, 

When love and music, that once did 
bless. 

Have left me to silence and loneliness. 

And life's song changes to sobbing 
prayers — 

Then my heart cries out for God who 
cares. 

When shadows hang o'er me the whole 

day long, 
And my spirit is bowed with shame and 

wrong ; 
When I am not good, and the deeper 

shade 
Of conscious sin makes my heart afraid ; 
And the busy world has too much to do 
To stay in its course to help me through. 
And I long for a Saviour — can it be 
That the God of the Universe cares for 

me? 

Oh, wonderful story of deathless love! 
Each child is dear to that heart above; 
He fights for me when I cannot fight ; 
He comforts me in the gloom of night; 
He lifts the burden, for he is strong; 
He stills the sigh and awakes the song; 
The sorrow that bowed me down he 

bears. 
And loves and pardons because he cares. 

Let all who are sad take heart again; 
We are not alone in hours of pain ; 
Our Father stoops from his throne above 
To soothe and quiet us with his love. 
He leaves us not when the storm is high, 
And we have safety, for he is nigh. 
Can it be trouble which he doth share? 
O rest in peace, for the Lord does care. 



CAST THY BURDEN ON THE LORD 

Thou who art touched with feeling of ottr 
woes, 
Let me on thee my heavy burden cast ! 
My aching, anguished heart on thee re- 
pose. 
Leaving with thee the sad mysterious 
past ; 
Let me submissive bow and kiss the rod ; 
Let me "be still, and know that thou 
art God." 

Why should my harassed agitated mind 
Go round and round this terrible 

event? 
Striving in vain some brighter side to 

find, 
Some cause why all this anguish has 

been sent? 
Do I indeed that sacred truth believe — 
Thou dost not willingly afflict and 

grieve? 

My lovely gourd is withered in an hour! 
I droop, I faint beneath the scorching 
sun; 
My Shepherd, lead me to some sheltering 
bower; 
There where thy little flock ' ' lie down 
at noon"; 
Though of my dearest earthly joy bereft 
Thou art my portion still; thou, thou, 
my God, art left. 

— Charlotte Elliott. 



Says God: "Who comes towards me an 
inch through doubtings dim. 

In blazing light I do approach a yard 
towards him." 
— Oriental, tr. by William Rounse- 
ville Alger. 



The light of love is round His feet, 
His paths arc never dim; 

And He comes nigh to us, when we 
Dare not come nigh to Him. 

— Frederick William Faber. 



Not in our waking hours alone 
His constancy and care are known. 
But locked in slumber fast and deep 
He giveth to us while we sleep. 

— Frederick Lucian Hosmer. 



2o8 



GOD'S CARE 



HIS CARE 

God holds the key of all unknown, 

And I am glad. 
If other hands shoukl hold the key, 
Or if he trusted it to nie, 

I might be sad. 

What if to-morrow's cares were here 

Without its rest? 
I'd rather he unlock the day, 
And as the hours swing open say, 

"Thy will be best. ' 

The very dimness of my sight 

Makes me secure; 
l<\)r groping in my misty way, 
I feel his hand; 1 hear him say, 

"My help is sure." 

T cannot read his future plan, 

But this I know: 
I have the smiling of his face, 
And all the refuge of his grace, 

While here below. 

Enough; this covers all my want, 

And so I rest; 
For what I cannot he can see. 
And in his care I sure shall be 

Forever blest. — John Parker. 



Forever, from the hand that takes 
One blessing from us, others f:dl; 

An<l soon or late our Father makes 
His perfect recompense to all. 

— ^John Grcenleaf Whittier, 



Nothing ])ays but God, 
Served — in work obscin-e done honestly, 
Or v<itc for truth unpopular, or faith 

maintained 
To ruinous convictions. 

— James Russell Lowell. 



He did God's will, to him all one, 
If on the earth or in the sim. 

— Robert Browning. 



I am 
Part of that Power, not imderstood. 

Which always wills (he bad 
And always works the good. 
(Mephisto])heles, in Faust.) 

— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. 



I have no answer, for myself or thee, 
Save that I learned beside my mother's 

knee: 
"All is of God that is, and is to be; 
And God is good." Let this sufiice us 

still. 
Resting in childlike trust upon his will 
Who moves to his great ends un- 

thwarted by the ill. 

— ^John Grcenleaf Whittier. 



He knows, he loves, he cares. 
Nothing his truth can dim; 

He gives his very best to those 
Who leave the choice to him. 



No help! nay, it is not sol 
Though human help be far, thy God is 

nigh. 
Who feeds the ravens hears his children's 

cry; 
He's near thee wheresoe'er thy footsteps 

roam, 
And he will guide thee, light thee, help 

thee home. 



God sees me though I see him not; 
I know I shall not be forgot; 
I'\)r though I be the smallest dot, 
It is his mercy shapes my lot. 
— From the Scandinavian, tr. by 
Frederic Rowland Marvin. 



Teach me to answer still, 

Whatc'er my lot may be. 
To all thou sendest me, of good or ill, 
"All goeth as God will." 



Dance, O my soul! 'tis God doth play; 
His will makes music all the day; 
That song which rings the world around 
This heart of mine shall ever sound. 
— ^James Mudge. 



Lot one more attest: 
I have seen God's hand through a life 

time, 
And all was for best. 

— Robert Browning. 



GOD'S WILL 

OBEDIENCE, DIVINE UNION 



THE WILL OF GOD 

I worship thee, sweet will of God I 

And all Ihy ways adore. 
And every day I live I seem 

To love thee more and more. 

Thou wert the end, the blessed rule 
Of our Saviour's toils and tears; 

Thou wert the passion of his heart 
Those three and thirty years. 

And he hath breathed into my soul 

A special love of thee, 
A love to lose my will in his, 

And by that loss be free. 

I love to kiss each print where thou 
Hast set thine vmseen feet; 

I cannot fear thee, blessed will! 
Thine empire is so sweet. 

When obstacles and trials seem 

Like prison walls to be, 
I do the little I can do. 

And leave the rest to thee. 

I know not what it is to doubt; 

My heart is ever gay; 
I run no risk, for come what will 

Thou always hast thy way. 

I have no cares, O blessed will I 
For all iny cares are thine; 

I live in triumj)h, Lord, for thou 
Hast made thy triumphs mine. 

And when it seems no chance or change 
From grief can set me free, 

Hope finds its strength in helplessness, 
And gayly waits on thee. 

Man's weakness waiting upon God 

Its end can never miss. 
For man on earth no work can do 

More angel-like than this. 

Ride on, ride on trium])hantly. 
Thou glorious Will! ride on; 

Faith's pilgrim sons behind thee take 
The road that thou hast gone. 



He always wins who sides with God, 

To him no chance is lost; 
God's will is sweetest to him when 

It triumphs at his cost. 

Ill that he blesses is our good, 

And unblest good is ill; 
And all is right that seems most wrong, 

If it be his sweet will! 

— Frederick William Faber. 



THE WILL DIVINE 

Thy will, O God, is joy to me, 

A gladsome thing; 
l<\)r in it naught but love I see, 

Whate'er it bring. 

No bed of pain, no rack of woe — 

Thy will is good ; 
A glory wheresoe'er I go, 

My daily food. 

Within the circle of thy will 

All things abide; 
So I, exulting, find no ill 

Where thou dost guide. 

In that resplendent will of thine 

I calmly rest; 
Triumphantly I make it mine, 

And count it best. 

To doubt and gloom and care and fear 

I yield no jot; 
Thy choice I choose, with soul sincere. 

Thrice haj)py lot! 

In all the small events that fall 

I'Vom day to day 
I mark thy hand, I hear thy call. 

And swift obey. 

I walk by faith, not sense or sight; 

Calm faith in thee; 
My peace endures, my way is bright. 

My heart is free. 

Unfaltering trust, complete content, 

The days ensphere. 
Each meal becomes a sacrament. 

And heaven is here. 

— James Mudge. 



209 



210 



GOD'S WILL 



THE TREE GOD PLANTS 

The wind that blows can never kill 

The tree God plants; 
It bloweth east, it bloweth west, 
The tender leaves have little rest. 
But any wind that blows is best ; 

The tree God plants 
Strikes deeper root, grows higher still, 
Spreads wider boughs, for God's good 
wiU 

Meets all its wants. 

There is no frost hath power to blight 

The tree God shields; 
The roots are warm beneath soft snows, 
And when Spring comes it surely knows. 
And every bud to blossom grows. 

The tree God shields 
Grows on apace by day and night. 
Till sweet to taste and fair to sight 

Its fruit it yields. 

There is no storm hath power to blast 

The tree God knows; 
No thunderbolt, nor beating rain, 
Nor lightning flash, nor hurricane — 
When they are spent it doth remain. 

The tree God knows 
Through every tempest standeth fast. 
And from its first day to its last 

Still fairer grows. 

If in the soul's still garden-place 

A seed God sows — 
A little seed — it soon will grow, 
And far and near all men will know 
For heavenly lands he bids it blow. 

A seed God sows. 
And up it springs by day and night; 
Through life, through death, it groweth 
right ; 

Forever grows. 

— LiUian E. Barr. 



GOD'S WILL 



Take thine own way with me, dear Lord, 
Thou canst not otherwise than bless. 

I launch me forth upon a sea 

Of boundless love and tenderness. 

I could not choose a larger bliss 

Than to be wholly thine; and mine 

A will whose highest joy is this, 
To ceaselessly unclasp in thine. 



I will not fear thee, O my God! 

The days to come can only bring 
Their perfect sequences of love, 

Thy larger, deeper comforting. 

Within the shadow of this love, 
Loss doth transmute itself to gain ; 

Faith veils earth's sorrow in its light, 
And straightway lives above her pain. 

We are not losers thus; we share 
The perfect gladness of the Son, 

Not conquered — for, behold, we reign; 
Conquered and Conqueror are one. 

Thy wonderful, grand will, my God, 
Triumphantly I make it mine; 

And faith shall breathe her glad ' ' Amen " 
To every dear command of thine. 

Beneath the splendor of thy choice. 
Thy perfect choice for me, I rest; 

Outside it now I dare not live, 
Within it I must needs be blest. 

Meanwhile my spirit anchors calm 
In grander regions still than this; 

The fair, far-shining latitudes 
Of that yet unexplored bliss. 

Then may thy perfect glorious will 
Be evermore fulfilled in me, 

And make my life an answering chord 
Of glad, responsive harmony. 

Oh! it is life indeed to live 

Within this kingdom strangely sweet ; 
And yet we fear to enter in. 

And linger with unwilling feet. 

We fear this wondrous will of thine 
Because we have not reached thy 
heart. 
Not venturing our all on thee 

We may not know how good thou art. 
— Jean Sophia Pigott. 



Deep at the heart of all our pain, 
In loss as surely as in gain. 

His love abideth still. 
Let come what will my heart shall stand 
On this firm rock at his right hand, 

" Father, it is thy will." 

— ^John White Chadwick. 



GOD'S WILL 



&tt 



THE CARPENTER 

Lord! at Joseph's humble bench 
Thy hands did handle saw and plane, 

Thy hammer nails did drive and clench, 
Avoiding knot, and humoring grain. 

That thou didst seem thou wast indeed, 
In sport thy tools thou didst not use. 

Nor, helping hind's or fisher's need. 
The laborer's hire too nice refuse. 

Lord! might I be but as a saw, 
A plane, a chisel in thy hand! 

No, Lord! I take it back in awe. 
Such prayer for me is far too grand. 

1 pray, O Master! let me lie. 

As on thy bench the favored wood; 
Thy saw, thy plane, thy chisel ply. 
And work me into something good. 

No! no! Ambition holy, high. 

Urges for more than both to pray; 

Come in, O gracious force, I cry, 

O Workman! share my shed of clay. 

Then I at bench, or desk, or oar. 
With last, or needle, net, or pen. 

As thou in Nazareth of yore. 
Shall do the Father's will again. 

— George Macdonald. 



THE DIVINE MAJESTY 

The Lord our God is clothed with might. 

The winds obey his will; 
He speaks, and in his heavenly height 

The rolling sun stands still. 

Rebel, ye waves, and o'er the land 
With threatening aspect roar; 

The Lord uplifts his awful hand. 
And chains you to the shore. 

Ye winds of night, your force combine; 

Without his high behest, 
Ye shall not, in the motmtain pine, 

Disturb the sparrow's nest. 

His voice sublime is heard afar; 

In distant peals it dies; 
He yokes the whirlwind to his car 

And sweeps the howling skies. 

Ye sons of earth, in reverence bend; 

Ye nations, wait his nod; 
And bid the choral song ascend 

To celebrate our God. 

— H. Kirke White. 



THOU SWEET, BELOVED WILL OF 
GOD 

Thou sweet, beloved will of God, 
My anchor ground, my fortress hill, 

My spirit's silent, fair abode, 
In thee I hide me and am still. 

O Will, that wiliest good alone. 

Lead thou the way, thou guidest best; 

A little child, I follow on. 

And, trusting, lean upon thy breast. 

Thy beautiful sweet will, my God, 
Holds fast in its sublime embrace 

My captive will, a gladsome bird, 
Prisoned in such a realm of grace. 

Within this place of certain good 
Love evermore expands her wings, 

Or, nestling in thy perfect choice. 
Abides content with what it brings. 

Oh lightest burden, sweetest yoke! 

It lifts, it bears my happy soul. 
It giveth wings to this poor heart; 

My freedom is thy grand control. 

Upon God's will I lay me down, 
As child upon its mother's breast; 

No silken couch, nor softest bed. 
Could ever give me such deep rest. 

Thy wonderful grand will, my God, 
With triumph now I make it mine; 

And faith shall cry a joyous Yes! 
To every dear command of thine. 



AS IT WAS TO BE 

The sky is clouded, the rocks are bare! 
The spray of the tempest is white in air; 
The winds are out with the waves at 

play, 
And I shall not tempt the sea to-day. 

The trail is narrow, the wood "is dim, 
The panther clings to the arching limb ; 
And the lion's whelps are abroad at play. 
And I shall not join in the chase to-day. 

But the ship sailed safely over the sea, 
And the hunters came from the chase in 

glee; 
And the town that was builded upon a 

rock 
Was swallowed up in the earthquake's 

shock. — Francis Bret Harte. 



212 



GOD'S WILL 



USEFUL ACCORDING TO GOD'S 
WILL 

Let me not die before I've done for thee 
My earthly work, whatever it may be ; 
Call me not hence with mission unful- 
filled; 
Let me not leave my space of ground 

untilled ; 
Impress this truth upon me, that not one 
Can do my portion that I leave undone. 

Then give me strength all faithfully to 

toil. 
Converting barren earth to fruitful soil. 
I long to be an instrument of thine 
For gathering worshipers into thy shrine : 
To be the means one human soul to save 
From the dark terrors of a hopeless 

grave. 

Yet most I want a spirit of content 
To work where'er thou'lt wish my labor 

spent, 
Whether at home or in a stranger's clime. 
In days of joy or sorrow's sterner time; 
I want a spirit passive to be still. 
And by thy power to do thy holy will. 

And when the prayer unto my lips doth 
rise, 

" Before a new home doth my soul sur- 
prise, 

Let me accomplish some great work for 
thee," 

Subdue it. Lord; let my petition be, 

"O make me useful in this world of 
thine. 

In ways accotding to thy will, not mine." 



AS THOU WILT \/ 

My Jesus, as thou wilt: 

may thy will be mine; 
Into thy hand of love 

1 would my all resign. 
Through sorrow or through joy 

Conduct me as thine own. 
And help me still to say, 

"My Lord, thy will be done." 

My Jesus, as thou wilt: 

If needy here, and poor, 
Give me thy people's bread, 

Their portion rich and sure. 
The manna of thy word 

Let my soul feed upon; 
And if all else should fail — 

My Lord, thy will be done. 



My Jesus, as thou wilt: 

If among thorns I go, 
Still sometimes here and there 

Let a few roses blow. 
But thou on earth along 
The thorny path hast gone; 
Then lead me after thee. 

My Lord, thy will be donel 

My Jesus, as thou wilt: 

Though seen through many a tear, 
Let not my star of hope 

Grow dim or disappear. 
Since thou on earth hast wept 

And sorrowed oft alone, 
If I must weep with thee, 

My Lord, thy will be done. 

My Jesus, as thou wilt: 

If loved ones must depart 
Suffer not sorrow's flood 

To overwhelm my heart. 
For they are blest with thee, 

Their race and conflict won; 
Let me but follow them. 

My Lord, thy will be done! 

My Jesus, as thou wilt: 

When death itself draws nigh, 
To thy dear wounded side 

I would for refuge fly. 
Leaning on thee, to go 

Where thou before hast gone; 
The rest as thou shalt please. 

My Lord, thy will be done! 

My Jesus, as thou wilt: 

All shall be well for me; 
Each changing future scene 

I gladly trust with thee. 
Straight to my home above, 

I travel calmly on, 
And sing in life or death, 

"My Lord, thy will be done." 
— Benjamin Schmolke, tr. by J. 
Borthwick. 



GREAT AND SMALL 

There is no great nor small in Nature's 

plan, 
Bulk is but fancy in the mind of man ; 
A raindrop is as wondrous as a star, 
Near is not nearest, farthest is not far; 
And suns and planets in the vast serene 
Are lost as midges in the summer sheen. 
Bom in their season ; and we live and die 
Creatures of Time, lost in Eternity. 
— Charles Mackay. 



GOD'S WILL 



213 



GOD'S WILL BE DONE 

My God, my Father, while I stray 
Far from my home, on life's rough way, 
O teach me from my heart to say, 
"Thy will be done!" 

Though dark my path, and sad my lot. 
Let me "be still," and murmur not; 

breathe the prayer divinely taught, 

"Thy will be done!" 

What though in lonely grief I sigh 
For friends beloved, no longer nigh. 
Submissive still would I reply, 
"Thy will be done!" 

Though thou hast called me to resign 
What most I prized, it ne'er was mine; 

1 have but yielded what was thine; 

"Thy will be done!" 

Shovild grief or sickness waste away 
My life in premature decay; 
My Father! still I strive to say, 
"Thy will be done!" 

Let but my fainting heart be blest 

With thy sweet Spirit for its guest ; 

My God! to thee I leave the rest: 

"Thy will be done!" 

Renew my will from day to day! 
Blend it with thine; and take away 
All that now makes it hard to say, 
"Thy will be done!" 

Then, when on earth I breathe no more 
The prayer oft mixed with tears before, 
I'll sing upon a happier shore: 
"Thy will be done!" 

— Charlotte Elliott. 



THE TWO ANGELS 

All is of God! If he but wave his hand, 

The mists collect, the rain falls thick 

and loud. 

Till, with a smile of light on sea and land, 

Lo! he looks back from the departing 

cloud. 

Angels of Life and Death alike are his; 
Without his leave they pass no 
threshold o'er; 
Who, then, would wish or dare, believ- 
ing this. 
Against his messengers to shut the 
door? 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



AMEN! 

I cannot say. 
Beneath the pressure of life's cares to- 
day, 

I joy in these; 

But I can say 
That I had rather walk this rugged way, 

If Him it please. 

I cannot feel 
That all is well when darkening clouds 
conceal 

The shining sun; 
But then I know 
God lives and loves, and say, since it is 
so, 

Thy will be done. 

I cannot speak 
In happy tones; the tear-drops on my 
cheek 

Show I am sad: 

But I can speak 
Of grace to suffer with submission meek 

Until made glad. 

I do not see 
Why God should e'en permit some things 
to be, 

When He is love; 
But I can see, 
Though often dimly, through the mys- 
tery 

His hand above! 

I do not know 
Where falls the seed that I have tried to 
sow 

With greatest care; 

But I shall know 
The meaning of each waiting hour below 

Sometime, somewhere! 

I do not look 
Upon the present, nor in Nature's book, 

To read my fate; 

But I do look 
For promised blessings in God's holy 
Book; 

And / can wait. 

I may not try 
To keep the hot tears back — but hush 
that sigh, 

"It might have been"; 
And try to still 
Each rising murmur, and to God's sweet 
will 

Respond "Amen!" 

— Frederick G. Browning. 



214 



GOD'S WILL 



AS HE WILLS 

He sendeth sun, he sendeth shower, 
AHke they're needful for the flower; 
And joys and tears aHke are sent 
To give the soul fit nourishment. 
As comes to me or cloud or sun, 
Father! thy will, not mine, be done. 

Can loving children e'er reprove. 
With murmurs, whom they trust and 

love? 
Creator! I would ever be 
A trusting, loving child to thee: 
As comes to me or cloud or sun. 
Father! thy will, not mine, be done. 

ne'er will I at life repine — 
Enough that thou hast made it mine; 
When falls the shadow cold of death 

1 yet will sing with parting breath, 
As comes to me or cloud or sun. 
Father! thy will, not mine, be done. 

— Sarah Flower Adams. 



ACCORDING TO THY WILL 

If I were told that I must die to-morrow, 

That the next sun 
Which sinks should bear me past all fear 
and sorrow 

For any one. 
All the fight fought, all the short journey 
through. 

What should I do? 



I do not think that I shovild shrink or 
falter. 

But just go on 
Doing my work, nor change nor seek to 
alter 

Aught that is gone; 
But rise, and move, and love, and smile, 
and pray 

For one more day. 

And lying down at night, for a last 
sleeping, 

Say in that ear 
Which barkens ever, "Lord, within thy 
keeping, 

How should I fear? 
And when to-morrow brings thee nearer 
still, 

Do thou thy will." 



I might not sleep for awe ; but peaceful, 
tender. 

My sotd would lie 
All night long; and when the morning 
splendor 

Flashed o'er the sky, 
I think that I could smile — could calmly 
say, 

"It is his day." 

But if a wondrous hand from the blue 
yonder 

Held out a scroll 
On which my life was writ, and I with 
wonder 

Beheld unroll 
To a long century's end its mystic clew — 
What should I do? 

What could I do, O blessed Guide and 
Master! 

Other than this, 
Still to go on as now, not slower, faster, 

Nor fear to miss 
The road, although so very long it be, 

While led by thee ? 

Step by step, feeling thee close beside 
me, 

Although unseen; 
Through thorns, through flowers, 
whether the tempest hide thee 
Or heavens serene. 
Assured thy faithfulness cannot betray, 
Thy love decay. 

I may not know, my God; no hand re- 
vealeth 

Thy counsels wise; 
Along the path no deepening shadow 
stealeth ; 

No voice replies 
To all my questioning thought the time 
to tell. 

And it is well. 

Let me keep on, abiding and unfearing 

Thy will always; 
Through a long century's ripe fruition 

Or a short day's; 
Thou canst not come too soon; and I 
can wait 

If thou come late! 

— Susan Coolidge. 



God's in his heaven. 
All's right with the world. 

— Robert Browning. 



1 



GOD'S WILL 



215 



WHAT PLEASETH GOD 

What pleaseth God with joy receive; 
Though storm-winds rage and billows 

heave 
And earth's fovindations all be rent, 
Be comforted; to thee is sent 
What pleaseth God. 

God's will is best; to this resigned, 
How sweetly rests the weary mind! 
Seek, then, this blessed conformity, 
Desiring but to do and be 

What pleaseth God. 

God's thoughts are wisest; human 

schemes 
Are vain delusions, idle dreams; 
Our purposes are frail and weak; 
With earthly mind we seldom seek 
What pleaseth God. 

God is the holiest; and his ways 
Are full of kindness, truth, and grace; 
His blessing crowns our earnest prayer, 
While worldlings scorn, and little care 
What pleaseth God. 

God's is the truest heart; his love 
Nor time, nor life, nor death, can move; 
To those his mercies daily flow, 
Whose chief concern it is to know 
What pleaseth God. 

Omnipotent he reigns on high 
And watcheth o'er thy destiny; 
While sea, and earth, and air produce 
For daily pleasure, daily use, 
What pleaseth God. 

He loves his sheep, and when they stray 
He leads them back to wisdom's way; 
Their faithless, wandering hearts to tvirn. 
Gently chastising, till they learn 
What pleaseth God. 

He knows our every need, and grants 

A rich supply to all our wants; 

No good withholds from those whose 

mind 
Is bent with earnest zeal to find 
What pleaseth God. 

Then let the world, with stubborn will. 
Its earth-bom pleasures follow still; 
Be this, my soul, thy constant aim. 
Thy riches, honor, glory, fame, 
What pleaseth God. 



Should care and grief thy portion be, 
To thy strong refuge ever flee; 
For all his creatures but perform, 
In peace and tumult, calm and storm, 
What pleaseth God. 

Faith lays her hand on God's rich grace, 
And hope gives patience for the race ; 
These virtues in thy heart enshrined. 
Thy portion thou wilt surely find. 
What pleaseth God. 

In heaven thy glorious portion is; 
There is thy throne, thy crown, thy bliss; 
There shalt thou taste, and hear, and 

see, 
There shalt thou ever do and be, 
What pleaseth God. 

— Paul Gerhardt. 



'THE SPLENDOR OF GOD'S WILL" 

O words of golden music 

Caught from the harps on high, 
Which find a glorious anthem 

Where we have found a sigh, 
And peal their grandest praises 

Just where ours faint and die. 

O words of holy radiance 

Shining on every tear 
Till it becomes a rainbow, 

Reflecting, bright and clear. 
Our Father's love and glory 

So wonderful, so dear! 

O words of sparkling power. 

Of insight full and deep! 
Shall they not enter other hearts 

In a grand and gladsome sweep, 
And lift the lives to songs of joy 

That only droop and weep? 

And O, it is a splendor, 

A glow of majesty, 
A mystery of beauty. 

If we will only see; 
A very cloud of glory 

Enfolding you and me. 

A splendor that is lighted 
At one transcendent flame. 

The wondrous love, the perfect love. 
Our Father's sweetest name; 

For his very name and essence 
And his will are all the same. 
— P'rances Ridley Havergal. 



2l6 



GOD'S WILL 



NOT BY CHANCE 

No chance has brought this ill to me ; 
'Tis God's sweet will, so let it be; 
He seeth what I cannot see. 

There is a need-be for each pain, 
And he will make it one day plain 
That earthly loss is heavenly gain. 

Like as a piece of tapestry, 

Viewed from the back, appears to be 

Naught but threads tangled hopelessly, 

But in the front a picture fair 
Rewards the worker for his care. 
Proving his skill and patience rare. 

Thou art the workman, I the frame; 
Lord, for the glory of thy name. 
Perfect thine image on the same! 



SUBMISSION TO GOD 

Whate'er God wills let that be done ; 

His will is ever wisest ; 
His grace will all thy hope outrun 
Who to that faith arisest. 

The gracious Lord 

Will help afford ; 
He chastens with forbearing; 

Who God believes. 

And to him cleaves. 
Shall not be left despairing. 

My God is my sure confidence, 
My light, and my existence; 
His counsel is beyond my sense. 
But stirs no weak resistance; 

His word declares 

The very hairs 
Upon my head are numbered; 

His mercy large 

Holds me in charge 
With care that never slumbered. 

There comes a day when at his will 

The pulse of nature ceases. 
I think upon it, and am still, 
Let come whate'er he pleases. 
To him I trust 
My soul, my dust, 
When flesh and spirit sever; 
The Christ we sing 
Has plucked the sting 
Away frorn death forever. 

— Albert of Brandenburg, 1586. 



THY WILL BE DONE 

We see not, know not; all our way 
Is night; with thee alone is day. 
From out the torrent's troubled drift, 
Above the storm our prayers we lift: 
Thy will be done! 

The flesh may fail, the heart may faint, 
But who are we to make complaint 
Or dare to plead, in times like these. 
The weakness of our love of ease? 
Thy will be done! 

We take, with solemn thankfulness. 
Our burden up, nor ask it less. 
And coinit it joy that even we 
May suffer, serve, or wait for thee, 
Whose will be done! 

Though dim as yet in tint and line, 
We trace thy picture's wise design. 
And thank thee that our age supplies 
Its dark relief of sacrifice. 
Thy will be done! 

And if, in our unworthiness, 
Thy sacrificial wine we press; 
If from thy ordeal's heated bars 
Our feet are seamed with crimson scars, 
Thy will be done! 

If, for the age to come, this hour 
Of trial hath vicarious power. 
And, blest by thee, our present pain 
Be liberty's eternal gain. 
Thy will be done. 

Strike, thou the Master, we thy keys, 
The anthem of the destinies! 
The minor of thy loftier strain, 
Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain, 
Thy will be done! 

— ^John Greenleaf Whittier. 



There is no sense, as I can see. 
In mortals such as you and me 
A-favilting nature's wise intents 
And locking horns with Providence. 



It is no use to grumble and complain; 

It's just as cheap and easy to rejoice; 
When God sorts out the weather and 
sends rain — 
Why, rain's my choice. 

— James Whitcomb Riley. 



4 



GOD'S WILL 



217 



THY WILL 

Not in dumb resignation 

We lift our hands on high; 
Not like the nerveless fatalist. 

Content to do and die. 
Our faith springs like the eagle 

Who soars to meet the sun, 
And cries, exulting, unto thee, 

"O Lord, thy will be donel" 

Thy will! It bids the weak be strong; 

It bids the strong be just; 
No lip to fawn, no hand to beg. 

No brow to seek the dust. 
Wherever man oppresses man. 

Beneath the liberal sun, 
O Lord, be there! Thine arm make bare! 

Thy righteous will be done! 

— John Hay. 



AS GOD WILL 

All goeth but God's will! 
The fairest garden flower 
Fades after its brief hour 
Of brightness. Still, 
This is but God's good will. 

All goeth but God's will! 
The brightest, dearest day 
Doth swiftly pass away, 
And darkest night 
Succeeds the vision bright. 

But still strong-hearted be. 

Yea, though the night be drear; 
How sad and long soe'er 

Its gloom may be, 

This darkness, too, shall flee. 

Weep not yon grave beside! 

Dear friend, he is not gone; 

God's angel soon this stone 
Shall roll aside. 
Yea, death shall not abide! 

Earth's anguish, too, shall go, 
O then be strong, my soul! 
When sorrows o'er thee roll 
Be still, and know 
'Tis God's will worketh so. 

Dear Lord and God, incline 
Thine ear unto my call! 
O grant me that in all, 

This will of mine 

May still be one with thine! 



Teach mc to answer still, 
Whate'er my lot may be, 
To all thou sendest me, 

Of good or ill ; 

"All goeth as God will." 

— ^Alice Williams. 



THE SHADOW OF THE GREAT 
ROCK 

Sweet is the solace of thy love, 
My heavenly Friend, to me. 

While through the hidden way of faith 
I journey home with thee. 

Learning by quiet thankfulness 
As a dear cnild to be. 

Though from the shadow of thy peace 

My feet would often stray, 
Thy mercy follows all my steps. 

And will not turn away; 
Yea, thou wilt comfort me at last 

As none beneath thee may. 

No other comforter I need 

If thou, O Lord, be mine; 
Thy rod will bring my spirit low, 

Thy fire my heart refine, 
And cause me pain that none may feel 

By other love than thine. 

Then in the secret of my soul. 
Though hosts my peace invade. 

Though through a waste and weary land 
My lonely way be made, 

Thou, even thou, wilt comfort me; 
I need not be afraid. 

there is nothing in the world 
To weigh against thy will ; 

Even the dark times I dread the most 

Thy covenant fulfill; 
And when the pleasant morning dawns 

I find thee with me still. 

Still in the solitary place 

I would awhile abide. 
Till with the solace of thy love 

My soul is satisfied, 
And all my hopes of happiness 

Stay calmly at thy side. 

On thy compassion I repose 
In weakness and distress; 

1 will not ask for greater ease 

Lest I should love thee less, 
It is a blessed thing for me 
To need thy tenderness. 

— Anna Letitia Waring. 



2l8 



GOD'S WILL 



RABIA 

There was of old a Moslem saint 

Named Rabia. On her bed she lay 
Pale, sick, but uttered no complaint. 

"Send for the holy men to pray." 
And two were sent . The first drew near : 
"The prayers of no man are sincere 
Who does not bow beneath the rod, 
And bear the chastening strokes of God." 
Whereto the second, more severe: 
"The prayers of no man are sincere 
Who does not in the rod rejoice 
And make the strokes he bears his 

choice." 
Then she, who felt that in such pain 
The love of self did still remain, 
Answered, "No prayers can be sincere 

When they from whose wrung hearts 
they fall 
Are not as I am, lying here, 

Who long since have forgotten all. 
Dear Lord of love! There is no pain." 
So Rabia, and was well again. 

— Edmund Clarence Stedman. 



THREE STAGES OF PIETY 

Rabia, sick upon her bed, 
By two saints was visited : 

Holy Malik, Hassan wise, 
Men of mark in Moslem eyes. 

Hassan said: "Whose prayer is pure 
Will God's chastisement endure." 

Malik, from a deeper sense, 
Uttered his experience: 

"He who loves his Master's choice 
Will in chastisement rejoice." 

Rabia saw some selfish will 
In their maxims lingering still, 

And replied: "O men of grace! 
He who sees his Master's face 

" Will not in his prayer recall 
That he is chastised at all." 

— Arabian, tr. by James Freeman Clarke, 
from the German of Tholuck. 
(Rabia was a very holy Arabian 

woman who lived in the second century 

of the Hegira, or the eighth century of 

our era.) 



PRAYER'S GRACE 

Round holy Rabia's suffering bed 
The wise men gathered, gazing 
gravely. 
"Daughter of God!" the youngest said, 
"Endure thy Father's chastening 
bravely; 
They who have steeped their souls in 
prayer 
Can any anguish calmly bear." 

She answered not, and turned aside, 
Though not reproachfully nor sadly. 
"Daughter of God!" the eldest cried, 
' ' Sustain thy Father's chastening gladly ; 
They who have learned to pray aright 
From pain's dark well draw up delight." 

Then spake she out: "Your words are 

fair; 
But, oh, the truth lies deeper still. 
I know not, when absorbed in prayer. 
Pleasure or pain, or good or ill. 
They who God's face can understand 
Feel not the workings of his hand." 
— Monckton Milnes. 



I LOVE THY WILL 

I love thy will, O God! 

Thy blessed, perfect will. 
In which this once rebellious heart 

Lies satisfied and still. 

I love thy will, O God! 

It is my joy, my rest ; 
It glorifies my common task, 

It makes each trial blest. 

I love thy will, O God! 

The sunshine or the rain; 
Some days are bright with praise, and 
some 

Sweet with accepted pain. 

I love thy will, O God! 

O hear my earnest plea. 
That as thy will is done in heaven 

It may he done in me! 

— Bessie Pegg MacLaughlin. 



Though the mills of God grind slowly, 
yet they grind exceeding small; 

Though with patience he stands waiting, 
with exactness grinds he all. 

— Tr. by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



GOD'S WILL 



219 



DAILY BREAD 

I pray, with meek hands on my breast, 
"Thy will be done, thy kingdom 

come," 
But shouldst thou call my dear ones 
home 
Should I still say, " 'Tis best; 
Thy will be done"? 

I cannot tell. I probe my heart 
With sharpest instruments of pain. 
And listen if the sweet refrain 

Still wells up through the smart — 
"Thy will be done!" 

I cannot tell. I yield the quest. 
Content if only day by day 
My God shall give me grace to say, 

"Father, thou knowest best; 
Thy will be done!" 

He gives no strength for coming ill, 
Until its advent. Then he rolls 
His love in on his waiting souls. 

Sure of their sweet "Thy will. 
Thy will be done!" 

"Give us this day our daily bread" — 
So prayed the Christ, and so will I; 
Father, my daily bread supply, 
Or, if I go unfed, 

"Thy will be done!" 

— Caroline Atherton Mason. 



APPROACHES 

When thou tumest away from ill 
Christ is this side of thy hill. 

When thou tumest towards good 
Christ is walking in thy wood. 

When thy heart says, " Father, pardon ! " 
Then the Lord is in thy garden. 

When stem duty wakes to watch 
Then his hand is on the latch. 

But when hope thy song doth rouse 
Then the Lord is in the nouse. 

When to love is all thy wit 
Christ doth at thy table sit. 

When God's will is thy heart's pole 
Then is Christ thy very soul. 

— George Macdonald. 



SUBMISSION 

But that thou art my wisdom, Lord, 
And both mine eyes are thine. 

My mind would be extremely stirred 
For missing my design. 

Were it not better to bestow 
Some place and power on me? 

Then should thy praises with me grow. 
And share in my degree. 

But when I thus dispute and grieve 

I do resume my sight; 
And, pilfering what I once did give. 

Disseize thee of thy right. 

How know I, if thou shouldst me raise, 
That I should then raise thee? 

Perhaps great places and thy praise 
Do not so well agree. 

Wherefore unto my gift I stand; 

I will no more advise; 
Only do thou lend me a hand. 

Since thou hast both mine eyes. 

— George Herbert. 



YOUTH'S WARNING 

Beware, exulting youth, beware. 

When life's young pleasures woo, 
That ere yovt yield yon shrine your heart, 

And keep your conscience true! 
For sake of silver spent to-day 

Why pledge to-morrow's gold? 
Or in hot blood implant remorse. 

To grow when blood is cold? 
If wrong you do, if false you play. 

In summer among the flowers. 
You must atone, you must repay. 

In winter among the showers. 

To turn the balances of heaven 

Surpasses mortal power; 
For every white there is a black. 

For every sweet a sour. 
For every up there is a down. 

For every folly shame. 
And retribution follows guilt 

As burning follows flame. 
If wrong you do, if false you play. 

In summer among the flowers. 
You must atone, you must repay 

In winter among the showers. 

— George Macdonald. 



GOD'S WILL 



THE BEAUTY OF HOLINESS 

I love thy skies, thy sunny mists, 
Thy fields, thy mountains hoar, 

Thy wind that bloweth where it lists; 
Thy will, I love it more. 

I love thy hidden truth to seek 

All round, in sea, on shore; 
The arts whereby like gods we speak; 

Thy will to me is more. 

I love thy men and women. Lord, 
The children round thy door. 

Calm thoughts that inward strength 
afford ; 
Thy will, O Lord, is more. 

But when thy will my life shall hold, 

Thine to the \'ory core. 
The world which that same will did mold 

I shall love ten times more. 

— George Macdonald. 



No child of man may perish ere his time 

arrives ; 
A thousand arrows pierce him and he 

still survives; 
But when the moment fixed in heaven's 

eternal will 
Comes round, a single blade of yielding 

grass may kill. 
— From the Mahabharata, tr. by Fred- 
eric Rowland Marvin. 



God gives to man the power to strike 
or miss you; 
It is not thy foe who did the thing. 
The arrow from the bow may seem to 
issue. 
But we know an archer drew the 
string. 
— Saadi, tr. by James Freeman Clarke. 



On two days it steads not to run from 
thy grave: 
The appointed and the unappointed 
day; 
On the first neither balm nor physician 
can save. 
Nor thee on the second the universe 
slay. 

— Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



ROUNDEL 

I do not know thy final will, 

It is too good for me to know. 

Thou wiliest that I mercy show, 
That I take heed and do no ill. 
That I the needy warm and fill. 

Nor stones at any sinner throw ; 
But I know not thy final will. 

It is too good for me to know. 

I know thy love unspeakable — 
For love's sake able to send woe! 
To find thine own thou lost didst go. 
And wouldst for men thy blood yet 

spill! 
How shoxild I know thy final will, 
Godwisc too good for me to know! 
— George Macdonald. 



One prayer I have — all prayers in one — 

Wnen I am wholly thine: 
Thy will, my God, thy will be done. 

And lot tnat will be miie; 
AU-wisc, almighty, and all-good. 

In thee I (irmly trust, 
Thy ways, unknown or understood, 

Are merciful and just. 



Fear him, ye saints, and you will then 

Have nothing else to fear; 
Make you his service your delight, 

He'll make your wants his care. 



The best will is our Father's will. 
And we may rest there calm and still ; 
O make it hour by hour thine own, 
And wish for naught but that alone 
Which pleases God. 

— Paul Gerhardt. 



It is Lucifer, 
The son of mystery; 
And since God suffers him to be 
He, too, is God's minister, 
And labors for some good 
By us not understood! 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



Rabbi Jehosha had the skill 
To know that heaven is in God's will. 
— ^James Russell Lowell. 



GOD'S PRESENCE 

POSSESSION, SATISFACTION, REFLECTION 



THE SECRET OF HIS PRESENCE 

In the secret of his presence 

I am kept from strife of tongues; 
His pavilion is around me, 

And within are ceaseless songs! 
Stormy winds, his word fulfilling. 

Beat without, but cannot harm, 
For the Master's voice is stilling 

Storm and tempest to a calm. 

In the secret of his presence 

All the darkness disappears; 
For a sun that knows no setting. 

Throws a rainbow on my tears. 
So the day grows ever lighter, 

Broadening to the perfect noon ; 
So the day grows ever brighter. 

Heaven is coming, near and soon. 

In the secret of his presence 

Never more can foes alarm; 
In the shadow of the Highest, 

I can meet them with a psalm; 
For the strong pavilion hides me, 

Turns their fiery darts aside. 
And I know, whate'er betides me, 

I shall live because he died! 

In the secret of his presence 

Is a sweet, unbroken rest; 
Pleasures, joys, in glorious fullness, 

Making earth like Eden blest; 
So my peace grows deep and deeper. 

Widening as it nears the sea. 
For my Saviour is my keeper. 

Keeping mine and keeping me! 
— Henry Burton. 



EYESERVICE 

Eyeservice let me give 
The while I live; 
In shadow or in light. 
By day or night. 
With all my heart and skill — 
Eyeservice still! 



Yes, for the eyes I'll serve — 
Nor faint nor swerve — 
Are not the eyes of man. 
That lightly scan. 
But God's, that pierce and see 
The whole of me! 

Beneath the farthest skies, 
Where morning flies, 
In heaven or in hell, 
If I should dwell. 
In dark or daylight fair, 
The Eyes arc there! 

No trembling fugitive, 
Boldly I live 
If, as in that pure sight, 
I live aright, 

Yielding with hand and will 
Eyeservice still! 

— Amos R. Wells. 



OMNIPRESENCE 

Lord of all being, throned afar, 
Thy glory flames from sun and star; 
Center and soul of every sphere. 
Yet to each loving heart how near! 

Sun of our life, thy quickening ray 
Sheds on our path the glow of day; 
Star of our hope, thy softened light 
Cheers the long watches of the night. 

Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn ; 
Our noontide is thy gracious dawn ; 
Our rainbow arch thy mercy's sign; 
All, save the clouds of sin, arc thine! 

Lord of all life, below, above, 

Whose light is truth, whose warmth is 

love, 
Before thy ever-blazing throne 
We ask no luster of our own. 

Grant us thy truth to make us free. 
And kindling hearts that bum for thee, 
Till all thy living altars claim 
One holy light, one heavenly flame. 

— Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



221 



GOD'S PRESENCE 



THE CHERUBIC PILGRIM 

God's spirit falls on me as dew drops on 
a rose, 

If I but like a rose my heart to him un- 
close. 

The soul wherein God dwells — what 

Church can holier be? 
Becomes a walking tent of heavenly 

majesty. 

Lo! in the silent night a child to God is 

bom, 
And all is brought again that ere was 

lost or lorn. 

Could but thy soul, O man, become a 

silent night 
God would be bom in thee and set all 

things aright. 

Ye know God but as Lord, hence Lord 

his name with ye, 
I feel him but as love, and Love his name 

with me. 

Though Christ a thousand times in Beth- 
lehem be born. 

If he's not bom in thee thy soul is all 
forlorn. 

The cross on Golgotha will never save 

thy soul. 
The cross in thine own heart alone can 

make thee whole. 

Christ rose not from the dead, Christ 

still is in the grave 
If thou for whom he died art still of sin 

the slave. 

In all eternity no tone can be so sweet 
As where man's heart with God in unison 
doth beat. 

Whate'er thou lovest, man, that, too, 

become thou must; 
God, if thou lovest God, dust, if thou 

lovest dust. 

Ah, would thy heart but be a manger for 

the birth, 
God would once more become a child on 

earth. 

Immeasurable is the highest; who but 

knows it? 
And yet a human heart can perfectly 

enclose it. 

— ^Johannes Scheffler. 



THE LARGER VIEW 

In buds upon some Aaron's rod 
The childlike ancient saw his God; 
Less credulous, more believing, we 
Read in the grass — Divinity. 

From Horeb's bush the Presence spoke 
To earlier faiths and simpler folk; 
But now each bush that sweeps our 

fence 
Flames with the Awful Immanence! 

To old Zacchaeus in his tree 
What mattered leaves and botany? 
His sycamore was but a seat 
Whence he could watch that hallowed 
street. 

But now to us each elm and pine 
Is vibrant with the Voice divine. 
Not only from but in the bough 
Our larger creed beholds him now. 

To the true faith, bark, sap, and stem 
Are wonderful as Bethlehem; 
No hill nor brook nor field nor herd 
But mangers the Incarnate Word! 

Far be it from our lips to cast 
Contempt upon the holy past — 
Whate'er the Finger writes we scan 
In manger, prophecy, or man. 

Again we touch the healing hem 
In Nazareth or Jerusalem; 
We trace again those faultless years; 
The cross commands our wondering 
tears. 

Yet if to us the Spirit writes 
On Morning's manuscript and Night's, 
In gospels of the growing grain. 
Epistles of the pond and plain, 

In stars, in atoms, as they roll. 
Each tireless round its occult pole. 
In wing and worm and fin and fleece. 
In the wise soil's surpassing peace — 

Thrice ingrate he whose only look 
Is backward focussed on the Book, 
Neglectful what the Presence saith. 
Though he be near as blood and breath! 

The only atheist is one 
Who hears no Voice in wind or sun. 
Believer in some primal curse. 
Deaf in God's loving universe! 

— Frederic Lawrence Knowles. 



GOD'S PRESENCE 



223 



STILL WITH THEE 

Still, still with thee, when purple morn- 
ing breaketh, 
When the bird waketh, and the 
shadows flee; 
Fairer than morning, lovelier than day- 
light, 
Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am 
with thee. 

Alone with thee amid the mystic 
shadows. 
The solemn hush of nature newly 
born; 
Alone with thee in breathless adoration. 
In the calm dew and freshness of the 
mom. 

As in the dawning o'er the waveless 
ocean 
The image of the morning-star doth 
rest, 
So in this stillness thou beholdcst only 
Thine image in the waters of my 
breast. 

Still, still with thee! as to each new born 
morning 
A fresh and solemn splendor still is 
given. 
So does this blessed consciousness awak- 
ing 
Breathe each day nearness unto thee 
and heaven. 

When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, 
to slumber. 
Its closing eyes look up to thee in 
prayer; 
Sweet the repose beneath thy wings 
o'ershading, 
But sweeter still, to wake and find 
thee there. 

So shall it be at last, in that bright 
morning, 
When the soul waketh, and life's 
shadows flee; 
O in that hour, fairer than daylight 
dawning, 
Shall rise the glorious thought — I am 
with thee. 

— Harriet Beecher Stowe. 



There lives and works a soul in all things, 
And that soul is God. 

— William Cowper. 



THE ELIXIR 

Teach me, my God and King, 

In all things thee to see, 
And what I do, in anything. 

To do it as for thee. 

A man that looks on glass 

On it may stay his eye, 
Or, if he please tli, through it pass 

And then to heaven espy. 

All may of thee partake. 

Nothing can be so mean 
Which with this tincture (for thy sake) 

Will not grow bright and clean. 

A servant with this clause 

Makes drudgery divine. 
Who sweeps a room as for thy laws 

Makes that and th' action fine. 

This is the famous stone 

That turncth all to gold; 
For that which God doth touch and own 

Cannot for less be told. 

— George Herbert. 



GOD'S PRESENCE 

But God is never so far off 

As even to be near. 
He is within; our spirit is 

The home he holds most dear. 

To think of him as by our side 

Is almost as untrue 
As to remove his throne beyond 

Those skies of starry blue. 

So all the while I thought myself 
Homeless, forlorn, and weary, 

Missing my joy, I walked the earth, 
Myself God's sanctuary. 

I come to thee once more, my God! 

No longer will I roam; 
For I have sought the wide world 
through 

And never found a home. 

Though bright and many are the spots 
Where I have built a nest — 

Yet in the brightest still I pined 
For more abiding rest. 

For thou hast made this wondrous soul 

All for thyself alone; 
Ah! send thy sweet transforming grace 

To make it more thine own. 

— Frederick William Faber, 



224 



GOD'S PRESENCE 



GOD IS MINE 

If God is mine then present things 
And things to come are mine; 

Yea, Christ, his word, and Spirit, too. 
And glory all divine. 

If he is mine then from his love 

He every trouble sends; 
All things are working for my good, 

And bliss his rod attends. 

If he is mine I need not fear 
The rage of earth and hell ; 

He will support my feeble power. 
Their utmost force repel. 

If he is mine let friends forsake, 
Let wealth and honor flee; 

Svirc he who givcth me himself 
Is more than these to me. 

If he is mine I'll boldly pass 

Through death's tremendous vale; 

He is a solid comfort when 
All other comforts fail. 

Oh! tell me, Lord, that thou art mine; 

What can I wish beside? 
My soul shall at the fountain live, 

When all the streams arc dried. 



A PRESENT SAVIOUR 

I have thee every hour. 

Most gracious Lord, 
That tender voice of thine 

Doth peace afford. 

I have thee every hour, 
Thou stay'st near by; 

Temptations lose their power 
Since thou art nigh. 

I have thee every hour, 

In joy and pain; 
With me thou dost abide, 

And life is gain. 

I have thee every hour. 
Teach me thy will; 
All thy rich promises 
Thou dost fulfill. 

I have thee every hour, 

Most Holy One, 
And I am thine indeed. 
Thou blessed Son. 
-Annie S. Hawks, altered by J. M. 



THE THOUGHT OF GOD 

The thought of God, the thought of thee, 

Who liest near my heart, 
And yet beyond imagined space 

Outstretched and present art — 

The thought of thee, above, below. 

Around me and within. 
Is more to me than health and wealth. 

Or love of kith and kin. 

The thought of God is like the tree 

Beneath whose shade I lie 
And watch the fleet of snowy clouds 

Sail o'er the silent sky. 

'Tis like that soft invading light 
Which in all darkness shines, 

The thread that through life's somber 
web 
In golden pattern twines. 

It is a thought which ever makes 
Life's sweetest smiles from tears. 

It is a daybreak to our hopes, 
A simset to our fears. 

Within a thought so great, our souls 

Little and modest grow. 
And, by its vastness awed, we learn 

The art of walking slow. 

The wild flower on the grassy mound 
Scarce bends its pliant form 

When overhead the autumnal wood 
Is thundering like a storm. 

So is it with our humbled souls, 
Down in the thought of God, 

Scarce conscious in their sober peace 
Of the wild storms abroad. 

To think of thee is almost prayer, 

And is outspoken praise; 
And pain can even passive thoughts 

To actual worship raise. 

All murmurs lie inside thy will 
Which are to thee addressed; 

To suffer for thee is our work. 
To think of thee, our rest. 

— Frederick William Faber. 



Let thy sweet presence light my way. 
And hallow every cross I bear; 
Transmuting duty, conflict, care. 

Into love's service day by day. 



GOD'S PRESENCE 



225 



OUR HEAVENLY FATHER 

My God, how wonderful thou art, 

Thy majesty how bright. 
How beautiful thy mercy seat 

In depths of burning light! 

How dread are thine eternal years, 

O everlasting Lord, 
By prostrate spirits, day and night, 

Incessantly adored. 

How beautiful, how beautiful 

The sight of thee must be. 
Thine endless wisdom, boundless power, 

And awful purity! 

O how I fear thee, living God! 

With deepest, tenderest fears. 
And worship thee with trembling hope 

And penitential tears. 

Yet I may love thee too, O Lord! 

Almighty as thou art. 
For thou hast stooped to ask of me 

The love of this poor heart. 

Oh, then, this worse than worthless heart 

In pity deign to take, 
And make it love thee for thyself, 

And for thy glory's sake. 

No earthly father loves like thee, 

No mother half so mild 
Bears and forbears, as thou hast done 

With me, thy sinful child. 

Only to sit and think of God, 

O what a joy it is! 
To think the thought, to breathe the 
name — 

Earth has no higher bliss. 

Father of Jesus, love's Reward! 

What rapture will it be, 
Prostrate before thy throne to lie 

And gaze, and gaze on thee! 

— Frederick William Faber. 



RULES FOR DAILY LIFE 

Begin the day with God: 

Kneel down to him in prayer; 

Lift up thy heart to his abode 
And seek his love to share. 

Open the Book of God, 
And read a portion there; 

That it may hallow all thy thoughts 
And sweeten all thy care. 



Go through the day with God, 
Whate'er thy work may be ; 

Where'er thou art — at home, abroad, 
He still is near to thee. 

Converse in mind with God; 

Thy spirit heavenward raise; 
Acknowledge every good bestowed, 

And offer grateful praise. 

Conclude the day with God: 

Thy sins to him confess; 
Trust in the Lord's atoning blood, 

And plead his righteousness. 

Lie down at night with God, 
Who gives his servants sleep; 

And when thou tread'st the vale of 
death 
He will thee guard and keep. 



HE FILLS ALL 

All are but parts of one stupendous 

whole ; 
Whose body nature is, and God the soul; 
That, changed through all, and yet in 

all the same; 
Great in the earth as in th' ethereal 

frame ; 
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the 

breeze. 
Glows in the stars and blossoms in the 

trees ; 
Lives through all life, extends through 

all extent. 
Spreads undivided, operates unspent; 
Breathes in our souls, informs our 

mortal part, 
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; 
As full, as perfect, in vile man that 

mourns. 
As the rapt seraph that adores and 

bums. 
To him no high, no low, no great, no 

small, 
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals 

all. 
***** 

All nature is but art, unknown to thee; 
All chance, direction which thou canst 

not see; 
All discord, harmony not understood; 
All partial evil, universal good; 
And, spite of pride, in erring reason's 

spite. 
One truth is clear — whatever is, is right. 
— Alexander Pope. 



226 



GOD'S PRESENCE 



THE PRESENCE 

I sit within my room and joy to find 
That thou who always lov'st art with 
me here; 
That I am never left by thee behind, 
But by thyself thou keep'st me ever 
near. 
The fire burns brighter when with thee 
I look, 
And seems a kindlier servant sent to 
me; 
With gladder heart I read thy holy 
book, 
Because thou art the eyes with which 
I see; 
This aged chair, that table, watch, and 
door 
Around in ready service ever wait; 
Nor can I ask of thee a menial more 

To fill the measure of my large estate ; 
For thou thyself, with all a Father's care. 
Where'er I turn art ever with me there. 
— ^Jones Very. 



BLESSED THOUGHT OF GOD 

One thought I have — my ample creed, 

So deep it is and broad, 
And equal to my every need — 

It is the thought of God. 

Each mom unfolds some fresh surprise, 

I feast at life's full board; 
And rising in my inner skies, 

Shines forth the thought of God. 

At night my gladness is my prayer; 

I drop my daily load. 
And every care is pillowed there 

Upon the thought of God. 

I ask not far before to see, 
But take in trust my road; 

Life, death, and immortality, 
Are in my thought of God. 

To this their secret strength they owed 
The martyr's path who trod; 

The fountains of their patience flowed 
From out their thought of God. 

Be still the light upon my way, 

My pilgrim staff and rod, 
My rest by night, my strength by day, 

O blessed thought of God. 

— Frederick Lucian Hosmer. 



EVENTIDE 

At cool of day with God I walk 
My garden's grateful shade; 

I hear his voice among the trees, 
And I am not afraid. 

I see his presence in the night — 
And though my heart is awed 

I do not quail before the sight 
Or nearness of my God. 

He speaks to me in every wind, 

He smiles from every star; 
He is not deaf to me, nor blind, 

Nor absent, nor afar. 

His hand, that shuts the flowers to sleep, 

Each in its dewy fold. 
Is strong my feeble life to keep. 

And competent to hold. 

I cannot walk in darkness long, 

My light is by my side ; 
I cannot stumble or go wrong 

While following such a guide. 

He is my stay and my defense ; 

How shall I fail or fall? 
My helper is Omnipotence! 

My ruler ruleth all! 

The powers below and powers above 

Are subject to his care; 
I cannot wander from his love 

Who loves me everywhere. 

Thus dowered, and guarded thus, with 
him 
I walk this peaceful shade, 
I hear his voice among the trees, 
And I am not afraid. 

— Caroline Atherton Mason. 



From cellar unto attic all is clean: 
Nothing there is that need evade the 
eye; 

All the dark places, by the world unseen. 
Are as well ordered as what open lie. 

Ah! souls are houses; and to keep them 
well, 
Nor, spring and autumn, mourn their 
wretched plight, 
To daily toil must vigilance compel. 
Right underneath God's scrutinizing 
light. 



GOD'S PRESENCE 



227 



SAINTSHIP 

To hoavon approached a Sufi saint,, 
From Kn'I'i'iJ,' •" H'c darUiK-ss laic, 

And, (apiiiu)^ timidly and faint,, 

Hcsouj^dil admission at God's },;;atc. 

Said God, "Who seeks to enter hero?" 
" 'Tis I, dear Friend," the saint re- 
plied, 

And tri'mbling much with hope and fear. 
"If it be thou, without abide." 

Sadly to earth the poor saint tnnied. 
To bear the sconrj^inj^ of life's rods; 

But aye his heart within him yearned 
To mix and lose its love in God's. 

He roamed alone throu};h weary yo.us, 
Hy cruel men still scornecl antl 
mocked. 

Until from faitli's ])ure fires and tears 
Again he rose, and modest knocked. 

Asked God ; "Who now is at the door? " 
"It is (liyself, l)elov<'d Lord," 

Answered the saint, in doubt no mon-, 
But clasped and rapt in his rew.inl. 
— From the Persian, tr. by William 
Rounseville Alger. 



OPEN THOU OUR RYES 

(Luke 24. is) 

And he drew near and talked with them, 

Hut they perceived him not. 
And mourned, imconscious of that lij^'ht. 
The gloom, the d;irkness, and the night 
That wrapt his burial spot. 

Wearied with doubt, jicrj>lexed and sad, 
They knew nor help nor guide; 

Wliile he who bore the secret key 

To open every mystery, 

Unknown was by their side. 

Thus often when we feel alone, 

Nor help nor comfort near. 
'Tis only that our eyes are dim. 
Doubting and sad we sec not him 

Who waiteth still to hear. 

"The darkness gathers overhead, 

The morn will never come." 
Did we but raise our downcast cyef\ 
In the white-Hushing eastern skies 
Appears the glowing sun. 



In all our daily joys and griefs 

In daily work and rest, 
To those who seek him t'hrist is near, 
Our bliss to calm, to soothe our care. 

In leaning on his breast. 

Open our eyes, O Lord, we pray, 

To see our way, our (iui(ie; 
That by the jiath that here we tri-ad, 
We, following on, may still be led 
in thy light to abide. 



MAN 

My God, I heard this day 
'I'hat none dotli build a stately habita- 
tion 
But he that means to dwell therein. 
What house more stately hath there 
been. 
Or can be, than is man? to whose crea- 
tion 

All things arc in decay. 

More servants wait on man 
Than he'll take notice of: in every ])at,h 
He treads down that which doth be- 
friend him, 
When sickness makes him i)aU? and 
wan. 
O mighty love! man is one world, and 
hath 

Another to attend him. 

For us tlie winds do blow. 
The earth doth rest, heaven move, and 
fountains How; 
Nothing wi> see but meansour good. 
As our delight or as our treasure; 
The whoU' iseither cupboard of our food. 
Or cabinet of pleasure. 

The stars have us to bed ; 

Night draws the curtain, which the sun 
willidraws; 
Music and light attend our head; 
All things unto our flesh are kind 
In theirdescent and being; to our mind. 
In their ascent and cause. 

Since then, my God, thou hast 
So brave a ])alace built, C) <lwell in it 
'I'hat it may dwell with thee at last. 
'I'ill then, aiTord us so much wit 
That, as the world serves us, we may 
serve thee. 

And both thy servants In-. 

— George Herbert. 



228 



GOD'S PRESENCE 



EVER WITH THEE 

I am with thee, my God — 

Where I desire to be: 
By day, by night, at home, abroad, 

I always am with thee. 

With thee when dawn comes on 
And calls me back to care, 

Each day returning to begin 
With thee, my God, in prayer. 

With thee amid the crowd 
That throngs the busy mart; 

I hear thy voice, when time's is loud. 
Speak softly to my heart. 

With thee when day is done 
And evening calms the mind; 

The setting as the rising sun 
With thee my heart shall find. 

With thee when darkness brings 

The signal of repose; 
Calm in the shadow of thy wings 

Mine eyelids gently close. 

With thee, in thee, by faith 

Abiding I shall be; 
By day, by night, in life, in death, 

I always am with thee. 
-James D. Burns, altered by J. M. 



SELF-EXAMINATION 

By all means use sometime to be alone. 
Salute thyself: see what thy soul doth 

wear. 
Dare to look in thy chest; for 'tis thine 

own; 
And tumble up and down what thou 

findst there. 
Who cannot rest till he good fellows find. 
He breaks up homes, turns out of doors 

his mind. 

Sum up by night what thou hast done 

by day; 
And in the morning, what thou hast 

to do. 
Dress and undress thy soul; mark the 

decay 
And growth of it; if, with thy watch, 

that too 
Be down, then wind up both; since we 

shall be 
Most surely judged, make thy accounts 

agree. — Greorge Herbert. 



"SHOW ME THY FACE" 

Show me thy face — 
One transient gleam 
Of loveliness divine 
And I shall never think or dream 

Of other love save thine. 
All lesser light will darken quite, 

All lower glories wane; 
The beautiful of earth will scarce 
Seem beautiful again! 

Show me thy face — 
My faith and love 
Shall henceforth fixed be, 
And nothing here have power to move 

My soul's serenity. 
My life shall seem a trance, a dream. 

And all I feel and see 
Illvisive, visionary — thou 
The one reality. 

Show me thy face — 
I shall forget 
The weary days of yore; 
The fretting ghosts of vain regret 
Shall haunt my soul no more; 
All doubts and fears for futxu-e years 

In quiet rest subside, 
And naught but blest content and calm 
Within my breast reside. 

Show me thy face — 

The heaviest cross 
Will then seem light to bear; 
There will be gain in every loss, 
And peace with every care. 

With such light feet 

The years will fleet. 
Life seem as brief as blest, 
Till I have laid my burden down 
And entered into rest. 

Show me thy face — 

And I shall be 
In heart and mind renewed; 
With wisdom, grace, and energy 
To work thy work endued. 

Shine clear, though pale, 

Behind the veil 
Until, the veil removed. 
In perfect glory I behold 
The Face that I have loved! 



I stand in the great Forever, 
All things to me are divine; 

I eat of the heavenly manna, 
I drink of the heavenly wine. 



GOD'S PRESENCE 



229 



LISTENING FOR GOD 

I hear it often in the dark, 

I hear it in the light: 
Where is the voice that calls to me 

With such a quiet might? 
It seems but echo to my thought, 

And yet beyond the stars; 
It seems a heart-beat in a hush. 

And yet the planet jars. 

O may it be that, far within 

My inmost soul, there lies 
A spirit-sky that opens with 

Those voices of surprise? 
And can it be, by night and day, 

That firmament serene 
Is just the heaven where God himself, 

The Father, dwells unseen? 

O God within, so close to me 

That every thought is plain. 
Be judge, be friend, be Father still. 

And in thy heaven reign! 
Thy heaven is mine, my very soul! 

Thy words are sweet and strong; 
They fill my inward silences 

With music and with song. 

They send me challenges to right. 

And loud rebuke my ill; 
They ring my bells of victory. 

They breathe my "Peace, be still!" 
They even seem to say: "My child. 

Why seek me so all day? 
Now journey inward to thyself. 

And listen by the way.' 

— William C. Gannett. 



ALLAH'S HOUSE 

Nanac the faithful, pausing once to pray. 

From holy Mecca turned his face away; 

A Moslem priest who chanced to see him 
there. 

Forgetful of the attitude in prayer. 

Cried "Infidel, how durst thou turn thy 
feet 

Toward Allah's house — the sacred tem- 
ple seat?" 

To whom the pious Nanac thus replied : 

"Knowest thou God's house is, as the 
world is, wide? 

Then, turn thee, if thou canst, toward 
any spot 

Where mighty Allah's awful house is 
not." 

— Frank Dempster Sherman. 



IF THE LORD SHOULD COME 

If the Lord should come in the morning, 

As I went about my work — 
The little things and the quiet things 

That a servant cannot shirk, 
Though nobody ever sees them. 

And only the dear Lord cares 
That they always are done in the light of 
the sun — 

Would he take me unawares? 

If my Lord should come at noonday — 

The time of the dust and heat. 
When the glare is white and the air is 
still 

And the hoof-beats sound in the 
street ; 
If my dear Lord came at noonday. 

And smiled in my tired eyes. 
Would it not be sweet his look to meet ? 

Would he take me by surprise? 

If my Lord came hither at evening. 

In the fragrant dew and dusk, 
When the world drops off its mantle 

Of daylight, like a husk. 
And flowers, in wonderful beauty. 

And we fold our hands in rest. 
Would his touch of my hand, his low 
command, 

Bring me unhoped-for zest? 

Why do I ask and question? 

He is ever coming to me. 
Morning and noon and evening. 

If I have but eyes to see. 
And the daily load grows lighter, 

The daily cares grow sweet. 
For the Master is near, the Master is 
here, 

I have only to sit at his feet. 

— Margaret Elizabeth Sangster. 



The day is long and the day is hard; 
We are tired of the march and of keeping 

guard; 
Tired of the sense of a fight to be won. 
Of days to live through, and of work to 

be done; 
Tired of ourselves and of being alone. 

And all the while, did we only see. 
We walk in the Lord's own company; 
We fight, but 'tis he who nerves our arm ; 
He turns the arrows which else might 

harm. 
And out of the storm he brings a calm. 
— Susan Coolidge. 



230 



GOD'S PRESENCE 



COME TO ME 

Come to me, come to me, O my God; 

Come to me everywhere. 
Let the trees mean thee, and the grassy 
sod. 

And the water and the air. 

For thou art so far that I often doubt, 

As on every side I stare. 
Searching within and looking without, 

If thou canst be anywhere. 

How did men find thee in days of old ? 

How did they grow so siore? 
They fought in thy name, they were glad 
and bold. 
They suffered and kept themselves 
pure. 

But now they say — neither above the 
sphere 

Nor down in the heart of man, 
But only in fancy, ambition, and fear, 

The thought of thee began. 

If only that perfect tale were true 
Which ages have not made old. 

Of the endless many makes one anew. 
And simplicity manifold! 

But he taught that they who did his 
word. 

The truth of it sure would know ; 
I will try to do it — if he be Lord 

Again the old faith will glow. 

Again the old spirit-wind will blow 
That he promised to their prayer; 

And obeying the Son, I too shall know 
His Father everywhere. 

— George Macdonald. 



Out of the hardness of heart and of will 
Out of the longings which nothing could 

fill; 
Out of the bitterness, madness, and 

strife. 
Out of myself and all I called life, 
Into the having of all things with Him! 
Into an ecstacy ftill to the brim! 
Wonderful loveliness, draining my cup! 
Wonderful pvupose that ne'er gave me 

up! 
Wonderful patience, enduring and 

strong! 
Wonderful glory to which I belong! 



IF I HIM BUT HAVE 

If I Him but have, 

If he be but mine — 
If my heart, hence to the grave. 

Ne'er forgets his love divine — 
Know I naught of sadness. 
Feel I naught but worship, love, and 
gladness. 

If I Him but have, 

Glad with all I part; 
Follow on my pilgrim staff. 

My Lord only, with true heart; 
Leave them, nothing saying. 
On broad, laright, and crowded high- 
ways straying. 

If I Him but have, 

Glad I fall asleep; 
Aye the flood that his heart gave 

Strength within my heart shall keep; 
And with soft compelling 
Make it tender, through and through it 
swelling. 

If I Him but have. 

Mine the world I hail! 
Glad as cherub smiling, grave. 

Holding back the Virgin's veil. 
Sunk and lost in seeing. 
Earthly cares have died from all my 
being. 

Where I have but Him 

Is my Fatherland, 
And all gifts and graces come 

Heritage into my hand; 
Brothers long deplored 
I in his disciples find restored. 

— George Macdonald. 



Quiet from God! How beautiful to keep 

This treasure the All-merciful hath 

given ; 

To feel, when we awake or when we sleep, 

Its incense round us like a breath from 

heaven. 

To sojourn in the world, and yet apart; 
To dwell with God, and still with man 
to feel; 
To bear about forever in the heart 
The gladness which his spirit doth 
reveal. 

— Sarah J. Williams. 



GOD'S PRESENCE 



231 



HIS CHOSEN ONES 

Some souls there are, beloved of God, 
Who, following where the saints have 

trod, 
Learn such surrender of the will 
They seem insensible of ill. 

Yet, finely strung and sensitive, 
They live far more than others live, 
And grief's and pain's experience 
Must be to them far more intense. 

O mystery — that such can know 
A life impregnable to woe! 
O paradox that God alone 
In secret proveth to his own! 

It must be that supremest grace 
So nerves them for the heavenly race 
Their litanies are turned to psalms, 
Their crosses, even here, to palms. 
— Harriet McEwen Kimball. 



When, courting slumber, 
The hours I number. 
And sad cares cumber 

My weary mind. 
This thought shall cheer me: 
That thou art near me. 
Whose ear to hear me 

Is still inclined. 

My soul thou keepest, 
Who never sleepest; 
'Mid gloom the deepest 

There's light above; 
Thine eyes behold me, 
Thine arms enfold me; 
Thy word has told me 

That God is love. 



We are not angels, but we may 
Down in earth's comers kneel. 

And multiply sweet acts of love, 
And murmur what we feel. 
— Frederick William Faber. 



Through thee, meseems, the very rose is 
red. 
From thee the violet steals its breath 

in May, 
From thee draw life all things that 
grow not gray, 
And by thy force the happy stars are 
sped. — ^James Russell Lowell. 



COME TO US, LORD 

Come to us. Lord, as the daylight comes 
When the darkling night has gone. 

And the quickened East is tremulous 
With the thrill of the wakened dawn. 

Come to us. Lord, as the tide comes on 
With the waves from the distant sea; 

Come, till our desert places smile, 
And our souls are filled with thee. 



There are in this loud, stunning tide 

Of human care and crime, 
With whom the melodies abide 

Of th' everlasting chime! 
Who carry music in their heart 
Through dusky lane and wrangling 

mart. 
Plying their daily task with busier feet 
Because their secret souls a holy strain 
repeat. — ^John Keble. 



Earth's crammed with heaven, 
And every common bush afire with God ; 
But only he who sees takes off his shoes. 
The rest sit roimd it and pluck black- 
berries. 
And daub their natural faces unaware 
More and more from the first similitude. 
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



O Name all other names above, 

What art thou not to me, 
Now I have learned to trust thy love 

And cast my care on thee! 
The thought of thee all sorrow calms; 

Our anxious burdens fall; 
His crosses turn to triumph palms 

Who finds in God his all. 

— Frederick Lucian Hosmer. 



Far off thou art, but ever nigh, 
I have thee still, and I rejoice, 
I prosper circled with thy voice; 

I shall not lose thee though I die. 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



Let the Loved One but smile on this 

poor heart of mine, 
I will sell the two worlds for one drop 

of his wine. 

— From the Persian. 



232 



GOD'S PRESENCE 



CONFIDENCE 

Thy presence, Lord, the j>hiee ilolh fill, 
My heart is now thy throne, 

Thy holy, just and jjerfect will 
Now in my llesh is done. 

My ste;ulf:ist soul, from falling free, 

Doth now no lonj;er ro\-e. 
For Christ is all the world to me 

And all my heart is love. 

— Charles Wesley, altered by J . M . 



Two worlds are ours; 'tis only sin 

Forbids us to desery 
The mystic heaven and earth within 

Plain as the sea and sky. 

Thou who hast j^iven me eyes to see 
And h)ve this sij:;ht so fair, 

Give me a heart to find out thee. 
And read thee everywhere. 

— John Keble. 



Speak to him, thou, for he hears, 
And spirit with spirit can meet; 

Closer is he than breathiiii:;, 

And nearer than hands and feet. 
— Alfred Tennyson. 



Heaven above is softer blue. 
Earth arovmd is sweeter j^reen, 

Something lives in every hue 

Christless eyes have never seen. 

Birds with pladder sones o'erllow, 
IHowers with deeper beauties shine; 

Since I knew, as now I know, 
I am his and he is mine. 



Unheard, because our ears arc dull. 
Unseen, because our eyes are dim, 

He walks the earth, the Wonderful, 
And all j^ood deeds are done to him. 
— John Grcenlcaf Whit tier. 



Where'er I look one I'^ace alone I see. 
With every atti'ibute of beauty in it 
blent; 
Still, still the Godhead's face entrances 
me, 
Yielding transcendency of .all that can 
be spent. — From tlu- Persian. 



IMMANENCE 

Not only in the cataract and the thunder 
Or in the deeps of man's uncharted 
soul. 
But in the ilew-star dwells alike the 
wonder 
And in the whirling:; dust-mite the 
control. 

— Charles G. D. Roberts. 



"Pis j^^reatly wise to talk with our past 

hours 
And ask them what report they bore to 

heaven. — Edward Young. 



A governed heart, thinking no thought 

but good. 
Makes crowded houses holy solitude. 
— lulwin Arnold, 



Hut where will God be absent; in his 

face 
Is light, and in his shadow healing, too. 
— Robert Browning. 



And g<iod may ever conquer ill. 

Health walic Avhere y)ain has trod; 

"As a man t!iinl<eth, so is he"; 
Rise, then, and think with God. 



God is law, say the wise; O Soul, and let 

us rejoiei", 
l'\)r, if He thiuuler by law, the thunder 

is yet his voice. 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



Whatevt-r road I take, it joins the stR'et 
Which leadeth all who walk it thee to 
meet. 



O work thy works in God. 

He can rejoice in naught 
Save only ii\ himself 

And wluit himself hath wrought. 



To live, to live, is life's great joy; to feel 
The living God within^ — to look 
abroad. 
And, in the lieaulv that all things reveal, 
Still meet the living (^lod. 

— Robert Leighton. 



JESUS 

HIS PRKCIOUvSNKSS, AND BKAUTY, AND LOVM 



OUR MAS'I'ICK 

V 
Iminorlul Love, forever full, 

I^'orever (lovviii)^' free, 
l''()revcr sliarecl, forever wlif)lc, 
A ncvcr-ebhinj^ ,se;il 

No f;il»|e old, nor iiiytliic Ion*, 
Nor (Ire.'im of h.'inis and seers, 

No (lead fact, stranded on l,hc slioro 
Of till! <jl)livioiis years; — 

Hilt warm, swoot, tender, (!ven yet 

A present liel|) is lie; 
And f.iitli lias still its Olivet, 

And love its (lalilec. 

The li<alinjj of his seamless dress 

Is liy our Ix-ds of pain ; 
We touch hill) in life's (hronjjand |)res;;, 

Ami we arc whole ajs'.'iin. 

'i'hroujdi him the first fond jirayers are 
said 

Our lips of childhood frame, 
'i'he last low whispers of our dead 

Are hurdeiierl with his name. 

O Lord and Master of ns all! 

WIi.'it(!'<T our name or sign. 
We own thy sway, we hear thy call, 

W<; t(!St onr lives by thine. 

We faintly hi-ar, w(r dimly see. 
In ilirferinj.^ pliras<; we pray; 

Hut, dim or clear, W(! own in the<- 
The Lik'ht, the 'I'ruth, th(; Way! 

To do thy will is mon; than praise, 
As worrls are less than dcerls, 

And sim|)l(; trust can find fhy ways 
W<^ miss with chart of creeds. 

No iiride of self thy service hath, 

Ino place for me ;ind mine; 
Our human streiij^th is weakness, death, 

Our life, ajiart from thine. 

Apart from thee nil jijain is loss. 

All labor vainly done; 
The solenin shadow of thy cross 

Is better than the sun. 



Alone, O Lf)V(!, inelTablel 
Thy saviu)^' tiame is jjiveii: 

To turn aside from (lice is ln'll, 
To walk with thi-e is liciveii, 

— John ('irceiileaf Wliittier. 



MY IIICART IS FIXKD 

I'll not leave Jesus, — never, never! 

Ah, what can more preeioim be? 
Kest and joy and lij^'ht are ever 

In his haiwl to j;ive to me. 
All things that, can s.-itisfy 
Jla,ving j<'i^ns, |Iioh<' have I. 

Love h;i.s bound me f;ist. unto him, 

i am his and he is mine; 
D.iily I for pardon sue him. 

Answers he wilh peace diviiK!. 
On that Uock my trust, is laid. 
And i rest beiietilh its shade. 

Without Jesus earth would weary, 
Seem almost like hell to be; 

Hut, if Jesus I S(;<' near me 

IC.'irtli is almost heaven to mo. 

Am I hunj,'ry, he doth >,'ive 

Hniad <jn which my soul can live. 

Spc'tit with him, one little hour 
Oiveth a year's worth of k"''i; 

(Irace and ])eac(' i)ut forth their jiower, 
Joy doth wholly banish jjain; 

One fait,h-j;lance lli.-it, (indetli him 

Maketh earthly crowns look dim. 

O how light upon my shoulder 

Lies rny cross, now grown so small! 

I''or the Lorrl is my iijiholder, 
[•'its it to me, sori,<'ns /ill; 

Neither shall it always slay. 

Patience, it will pass away. 

Those who faithfully go forw.ird 
In his changeless can- shall go. 

Nothing's doul)lful or iint.oward. 
To the (lock who Jesus know. 

Jesus alw.'iys is the s.ime; 

rrue ami faithful is his name. 



2.33 



234 



JESUS 



CHRIST'S SYMPATHY 

H Jesus came to earth ajj;ain, 

And walked and talkotl in field and 
street, 
Who would not lay his human pain 

Low at those heavenly feet? 

And leave the loom, and leave the lute, 
And leave the volume on the shelf. 

To follow him, muiuestionin^j, mute, 
H 'twere the Lord himself? 

How many a brow with care o'erworn. 
How many a heart with grief o'er- 
laden. 

How many a man with woe forlorn. 
How many a mourning maiden, 

Would leave the baffling earthly prize. 
Which fails the earthly weak endeavor. 

To gaze into those holy eyes 
And drink content forever! 

His sheep along the cool, the shade, 
Hy the still watercourse he leads; 

His lambs upon his breast are laid; 
His hungry ones he feeds. 

And I where'er he went would go, 

Nor question where the i)aths might 
lead; 

Enough to know that here below 
I walked with God indeed! 

If it be thus, O Lord of mine. 
In absence is thy love forgot? 

And must I, when I walk, repine 
Because I sec thee not? 

If this be thus, if this be thus. 

Since our poor prayers yet reach thee. 
Lord, 

Since we are weak, once more to us 
Reveal the living Word ! 

O nearer to mc, in the dark. 

Of life's low house, one moment stand ; 
And give me keener eyes to mark 

The moving of thy hand. 

— Edward Bulwcr Lytton. 



There's not a craving in the mind 
Thou dost not meet and still; 

There's not a wish the heart can have 
Which thou dost not fulfill. 

— Frederick William Faber. 



FINDING ALL IN JESUS 

Love that wilt not let me go, 
I rest my weary soul on thee; 

1 gi\'e thee back the life I owe, 
That in thine oi-ran (U'])th its flow 

May richer, fuller be. 

O Light that followest all my way, 

I vield my lliekering toivli tf) thee; 
My heart restores its borrowed ray, 
That in thy sunshine's blaze its day 
May brighter, fairer be. 

T'^y that seekest me t hnnigh jKiin, 
1 cannot close my heart to tiiee; 

1 trace the rainbow through the rain, 
And feel the promise is not vain, 

That morn shall tearless be. 

tVoss that liftest i\p my head, 

1 dare not ask to (ly from thee; 

1 lay in dust life's glory dt-ad. 

And from the ground there blossoms red 
Life that shall endless be. 

— George Mathcson. 



EAST LONDON 

'Twas August, and the fierce sun over- 
head 
Smote on the squalid streets of Beth- 

nal Green, 
And (he ])ale weaver, through his 
windows si'en 
In Spitallields, look'd thrice dispirited. 

I met a preacher (Iutc I knew, and said : 
"111 and o'erworkeil, how fare you in 

(his scene?" 
"Bra\'ely!" said he; "for I of late 
have been 
Much cheered with thoughts of Christ, 
the limttg bread." 

O human soul! as long as thou canst so 

Set u[) a mark of everlasting light 
Above the howling sen.ses' ebb and (low 
To cheer thee, and to right thee if thou 
roam — 
Not with lost toil thou lal)orest thro' 
the night! 
Thou mak'st the heaven thou hop'st in- 
deed thy home. 

— Matthew Arnold. 



JESUS 



235 



PRECIOUSNESS OP CHRIST 

Jesus, the very thought of thee 
With sweetness iills the breast; 

But sweeter far thy face to see, 
And in thy presence rest. 

No voice can sing, no heart can frame. 

Nor can the memory find, 
A sweeter sound than thy blest name, 

O Saviour of mankind! 

O hope of every contrite heart! 

O joy of all the meek! 
To those who ask how kind thou art, 

How good to those who seek! 



But what to those who find? Ah, 
Nor tongue nor pen can show ; 

The love of Jesus, what it is, 
None but his loved ones know. 



thi 



Jesus, our only joy be thou. 

As thou our prize wilt be; 
In thee be all our glory now, 

And through eternity. 
— Bernard of Clairvaux, tr. by Edward 

Caswall. 



■ A LITTLE TALK WITH JESUS 

A little talk with Jesus, 

How it smooths the rugged road! 
How it seems to help me onward, 

When I faint beneath my load; 
When my heart is crushed with sorrow. 

And my eyes with tears are dim, 
There is naught can yield me comfort 

Like a little talk with him. 

Ah, this is what I'm wanting — 

His lovely face to see; 
And, I'm not afraid to say it, 

I know he's wanting me. 
He gave his life my ransom. 

To make me all his own. 
And he'll ne'er forget his promise 

To me his purchased one. 

I cannot live without him. 

Nor would I if I could; 
He is my daily portion, 

My medicine and food. 
He's altogether lovely. 

None can with him compare; 
Chiefest among ten thousand, 

And fairest of the fair. 



So I'll wait a little longer, 

Till his appointed time. 
And along the upward pathway 

My pilgrim feet shall climb. 
There in my Father's dwelling. 

Where many mansions be, 
I shall sweetly talk with Jesus, 

And he will talk with me. 



NOTHING TO WISH OR TO FEAR 

His name yields the richest jicrfume. 

And sweeter than music his voice; 
His presence disperses my gloom. 

And makes all within me rejoice; 
I should, were he always thus nigh. 

Have nothing to wish or to fear; 
No mortal so happy as I, 

My summer would last all the year. 

Content with beholding his face. 

My all to his pleasure resigned, 
No changes of season or place 

Would make any change in my mind ; 
While blest with a sense of his love 

A palace a toy would appear; 
And prisons would palaces prove 

If Jesus would dwell with me there. 
— John Newton. 



THE HEART OF GOD 

There is no love like the love of Jesus, 

Never to fade or fall 
Till into the fold of the peace of God 

He has gathered us all. 

There is no heart like the heart of Jesus, 

Filled with a tender lore; 
Not a throb or throe our hearts can know 

But he suffered before. 

There is no voice like the voice of Jesus; 

Ah! how sweet its chime. 
Like the musical ring of some rushing 
spring 

In the summer-time! 

O might we listen that voice of Jesus! 

O might we never roam 
Till our souls should rest, in peace, on 
his breast, 
In the heavenly home! 

— W. E. Littlewood. 



236 



JESUS 



THE TOUCH 

"He touched her hand, and the fever 
left her." 
He touched her hand as he only can, 
With the wondrous skill of the Great 
Physician, 
With the tender touch of the Son of 
man. 
And the fever-pain in the throbbing 
temples 
Died out with the flush on brow and 
cheek, 
And the lips that had been so parched 
and burning 
Trembled with thanks that she could 
not speak. 
And the eyes where the fever light had 
faded 
Looked up, by her gratefiU tears made 
dim. 
And she rose and ministered in her 
household ; 
She rose and ministered unto him. 

"He touched her hand, and the fever 
left her." 
O blessed touch of the Man divine! 
So beautiful to arise and serve him 
When the fever is gone from your life 
and mine. 
It may be the fever of restless serving 
With heart all thirsty for love and 
praise, 
And eyes all aching and strained with 
yearning 
Toward self-set goals in the future 
days. 
Or it may be fever of spirit anguish. 
Some tempest of sorrow that does not 
down. 
Till the cross at last is in meekness lifted 
And the head stoops low for the 
thorny crown. 
Or it may be a fever of pain and anger. 
When the wounded spirit is hard to 
bear. 
And only the Lord can draw forth the 
arrows 
Left carelessly, cruelly rankling there. 

Whatever the fever, his touch can heal 
it; 
Whatever the tempest, his voice can 
still. 
There is only a rest as we seek his pleas- 
ure, 
There is only a rest as we choose his 
wiU. 



And some day, after life's fitful fever, 
I think we shall say, in the home on 
high, 
"If the hands that he touched but did 
his bidding. 
How little it matters what else went 
by!" 
Ah, Lord, Thou knowest us altogether. 
Each heart's sore sickness, whatever 
it be; 
Touch thou our hands ! Let the fever 
leave us, 
And so shall we minister unto thee! 



JESUS OUR JO^ 

Jesus, thou Joy of loving hearts! 

Thou Fount of life ! thou Light of men ! 
From the best bliss that earth imparts 

We tvuTti, unfilled, to thee again. 

Thy truth unchanged hath ever stood; 

Thou savest those that on thee call; 
To them that seek thee thou art good, 

To them that find thee, all in all. 

We taste thee, O thou Living Bread, 
And long to feast upon thee still; 

We drink of thee, the Fountain Head, 
And thirst ovir souls from thee to fill! 

Ovir restless spirits yearn for thee 
Where'er our changeful lot is cast; 

Glad, when thy gracious smile we see. 
Blest, when our faith can hold thee 
fast. 

O Jesus, ever with us stay; 

Make all our moments calm and 
bright ; 
Chase the dark night of sin away; 

Shed o'er the world thy holy light. 
— Bernard of Clairvaux, tr. by Ray 

Palmer. 



FRIEND OF SOULS 

O Friend of souls! how blest the time 

When in thy love I rest! 
When from my weariness I climb 

E'en to thy tender breast! 
The night of sorrow endeth there, 

Thy rays outshine the sun; 
And in thy pardon and thy care 

The heaven of heavens is won. 



JESUS 



237 



The world may call itself my foe, 

Or flatter and allure, 
I care not for the world — I go 

To this tried friend and sure. 
And when life's fiercest storms are sent 

Upon life's wildest sea. 
My little bark is confident 

Because it holdeth thee. 

When the law threatens endless death 

Upon the awful hill. 
Straightway from her consuming breath 

My soul goes higher still — 
Goeth to Jesus, wounded, slain, 

And maketh him her home. 
Whence she will not go out again, 

And where death cannnot come, 

I do not fear the wilderness — 

Where thou hast been before; 
Nay, rather will I daily press 

After thee, near thee, more. 
Thou art my food, on thee I lean; 

Thou makest my heart sing; 
And to thy heavenly pastures green 

All thy dear flock dost bring. 

And if the gate that opens there 

Be dark to other men. 
It is not dark to those who share 

The heart of Jesus then. 
That is not losing much of life 

Which is not losing thee. 
Who art as present in the strife 

As in the victory. 

To others death seems dark and grim. 

But not, O Lord, to me; 
I know thou ne'er forsakest him 

Who puts his trust in thee. 
Nay, rather with a joyful heart 

I welcome the release 
From this dark desert, and depart 

To thy eternal peace. 

— Wolfgang C. Dessler. 



MY LORD AND I 

I have a Friend so precious. 

So very dear to me, 
He loves me with such tender love, 

He loves so faithfully, 
I could not live apart from him, 

I love to feel him nigh; 
And so we dwell together, 

My Lord and I, 



Sometimes I'm faint and weary; 

He knows that I am weak, 
And as he bids me lean on him 

His help I gladly seek; 
He leads me in the paths of light 

Beneath a sunny sky, 
And so we walk together, 

My Lord and I, 

He knows how much I love him, 

He knows I love him well. 
But with what love he loveth me 

My tongue can never tell. 
It is an everlasting love 

In ever rich supply. 
And so we love each other, 

My Lord and I, 

I tell him all my sorrows, 

I tell him all my joys, 
I tell him all that pleases me, 

I tell him what annoys. 
He tells me what I ought to do. 

He tells me how to try, 
And so we talk together, 

My Lord and I. 

He knows how I am longing 

Some weary soul to win. 
And so he bids me go and speak 

The loving word for him. 
He bids me tell his wondrous love, 

And why he came to die. 
And so we work together. 

My Lord and I. 

I have his yoke upon me, 

And easy 'tis to bear; 
In the burden which he carries 

I gladly take a share; 
For then it is my happiness 

To have him always nigh; 
We bear the yoke together, 

My Lord and I. 

— L. Shorey. 



Ever, when tempted, make me see. 

Beneath the olive's moon-pierced 
shade. 
My God alone, outstretched and bruised. 

And bleeding on the earth he made ; 
And make me feel it was my sin. 

As though no other sin there were. 
That was to him who bears the world 

A load that he could scarcely bear. 
— Frederick William Faber. 



238 



JESUS 



JESUS ALL-SUFFICIENT 

If only he is mine — 

If but this poor heart 
Never more, in grief or joy, 
May from him depart, 
Then farewell to sadness; 
All I feel is love, and hope, and gladness. 

If only he is mine. 

Then from all below, 
Leaning on my pilgrim staff. 
Gladly forth I go 
From the crowd who follow, 
In the broad, bright road, their pleasures 
false and hollow. 

If only he is mine. 

Then all else is given; 
Every blessing lifts my eyes 
And my heart to heaven. 
Filled with heavenly love, 
Earthly hopes and fears no longer tempt 
to move. 

There, when he is mine. 

Is my Fatherland, 
And my heritage of bliss 
Cometh from his hand. 
Now I find again. 

In his people, love long lost, and 
mourned in vain. 

— Novalis. 



JESUS SUPREME 

Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, 

Live o'er again in me. 
That, filled with love, I may become 

A Christ in my degree. 

Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, 

My inmost being fill; 
So shall I think as thou dost think. 

And will as thou dost will. 

Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, 
Thy life transfigure mine; 

And through this veil of mortal flesh 
Here may thy glory shine. 

Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, 
Thy love's constraint I feel, 

Thy cross I see, and mind and heart 
Obey its mute appeal. 

Be thou supreme. Lord Jesus Christ, 
And when this life is o'er 

May I be with thee where thou art. 
Like thee, forever more. 



ALL FOR JESUS 

What shall I sing for thee. 

My Lord and Light? 
What shall I bring to thee. 

Master, to-night? 
O for the strong desire! 

for the touch of fire ! 
Then shall my tuneful lyre 

Praise thee aright. 

Thou hast given all for me, 
Saviour divine! 

1 would give all to thee, 

Evermore thine! 
Let my heart cling to thee, 
Let my lips sing for thee, 
Let me just bring to thee 

All that is mine! 

Didst thou not die for me. 

Ransom for sin? 
Ascending on high for me. 

Pleading within? 
All shall be dross for thee, 
All shall be loss for thee. 
Welcome the cross for thee 

I, too, shall win! 

What can I do for thee, 

Glorious Friend? 
Let me be true to thee 

Right to the end! 
Close to thy bleeding side. 
Washed in the crimson tide, 
On till the waves divide, 

Till I ascend! 

Then a still sweeter song, 

Jesus, I'll bring; 
Up 'mid the ransomed throng 

Thee will I sing! 
Never to leave thee now, 
Never to grieve thee now. 
Low at thy feet to bow. 

Wonderful King! 

— Henry Burton. 



CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE 

O who like thee, so calm, so bright. 
Lord Jesus Christ, thou Light of light; 
O who like thee did ever go 
So patient through a world of woe ? 
O who like thee so humbly bore 
The scorn, the scoffs of men, before; 
So meek, so lowly, yet so high. 
So glorious in humility? 



JESUS 



239 



Through all thy life-long weary years, 
A Man of sorrows and of tears, 
The cross, where all our sins were laid, 
Upon thy bending shoulders weighed; 
And death, that sets the prisoner free, 
Was pang and scofiE and scorn to thee; 
Yet love through all thy torture glowed, 
And mercy with thy life-blood flowed. 

O wondrous Lord, our souls would be 
Still more and more conformed to thee! 
Would lose the pride, the taint of sin, 
That bums these fevered veins within? 
And learn of thee, the lowly One, 
And, like thee, all our journey run, 
Above the world, and all its mirth, 
Yet weeping still with weeping earth. 

Be with us as we onward go; 
Illumine all our way of woe ; 
And grant us ever on the road 
To trace the footsteps of our God; 
That when thou shalt appear, arrayed 
In light, to judge the quick and dead. 
We may to life immortal soar 
Through thee, who livest evermore. 
— Arthur Cleveland Coxe. 



IT PASSETH KNOWLEDGE 

It passeth knowledge, that dear love of 

thine. 
My Jesus! Saviour! Yet this soul of mine 
Would of that love in all its depth and 

length. 
Its height and breadth and everlasting 

strength, 

Know more and more. 

It passeth telling, that dear love of thine. 
My Jesus! Saviour! yet these lips of mine 
Would fain proclaim to sinners far and 

near 
A love which can remove all guilty fear, 
And love beget. 

It passeth praises, that dear love of thine, 
My Jesus! Saviour! yet this heart of mine 
Would sing a love so rich, so full, so free. 
Which brought an undone sinner, such as 
me. 

Right home to God. 

But ah! I cannot tell, or sing, or know. 
The fulness of that love whilst here 

below. 
Yet my poor vessel I may freely bring; 
O thou who art of love the living spring. 
My vessel fill. 



I am an empty vessel ! scarce one thought 
Or look of love to thee I've ever brought ; 
Yet, I may come and come again to thee 
With this — the contrite sinner's truthful 
plea — 

"Thou lovest me!" 

Oh! fill me, Jesus! Saviour! with thy 

love! 
My woes but drive me to the fount 

above : 
Thither may I in childlike faith draw 

nigh. 
And never to another fountain fly 
But unto thee! 

And when, my Jesus, thy dear face I sec. 
When at that lofty throne I bend the 

knee. 
Then of thy love — in all its breadth and 

length. 
Its height and depth, and everlasting 
strength — 

My soul shall sing. 

— Mary Shekelnot. 



SEEING JESUS 

I would see Jesus. As I muse, and, 
thinking. 
Grow amazed — bewildered with a 
strange delight. 
My faith is roused, my spirit seemeth 
drinking 
A foretaste of that ever-longed-for 
sight. 

I know that I shall see him ; in that hour 
When he from fleshly bonds release 
doth give. 
Earth's mists dispersing at his word of 
power, 
Then shall I look upon my God and 
live! 

O blessed hope! O glorious aspiration! 
A little while and I the Christ shall 
see! 
A patient waiting for the full salvation — 
Then shall I know my Lord as he 
knows me. 



I have seen the face of Jesus : 
Tell me not of aught beside. 

I have heard the voice of Jesus : 
All my soul is satisfied. 



240 



JESUS 



SHE BROUGHT HER BOX OF 
ALABASTER 

She brought her box of alabaster; 

The precious spikenard filled the room 
With honor worthy of thi- Master, 

A costly, rare, and rich perfiuiie. 

Her tears for sin fell hot and thickly 
On his dear feet, outstretched and 
bare ; 
Unconscious how, she wiped Iheni 
quickly 
With the long ringlets of her hair. 

And richly fall those raven tresses 
Adown her cheek, like willow leaves, 

As stooping still, with fond caresses, 
She plies her task of love, and grieves. 

Oh may we thus, like loving Mary, 
Ever our choicest oflerings bring. 

Nor grudging of our toil, nor chary 
Of costly service to our King. 

Methinks I hear from Christian lowly 
Some hallowed voice at evening rise, 

Or quiet mom, or in the holy 

Unclouded calm of Sabbath skies; 

I bring my box of alabaster, 

Of earthly loves I break the shrine, 

And pour affections, purer, vaster. 
On that dear head, those feet of thine. 

The joys I prized, the hopes I cherished, 
The fairest flowers my fancy wove. 

Behold my fondest idols ])erished. 
Receive the incense of my love! 

What though the scornful world, de- 
riding. 
Such waste of love, of service, fears? 
Still let me pour, through taunt and 
chiding. 
The rich libation of my tears. 

I bring my box of alabaster; 

Accepted let the offering rise! 
So grateful t(>ars shall flow the faster, 

In founts of gladness from mine eyes! 
^ — C. L. Ford. 



Not I but Christ be honored, loved, ex- 
alted. 

Not I but Christ be seen, be known, 
be heard. 

Not I but Christ in every look and action. 

Not I but Christ in every thought and 
word. 



JESUS, I LOVE THEE 

Jesus, I love thee, not because 

1 hojje for heaven thereby, 
Nor yet because, if I love not, 

I must forever die. 

I love thee. Saviour dear, and still 

I ever will love thee, 
Solely because my Ood, thou art. 

Who first hast lov6d me. 

I'\)r nie to lowest deplli of woe 

'I'luui didst thy.self abase; 
For me didst bear the cross and shame, 

Anil manifold disgrace; 

For me didst sufTer pain imknown. 

Blood-sweat and agony — 
Yea, death itsi'lf — all, all for me. 

Who was thine enemy. 

Then why, O blessed Saviour mine. 

Should 1 not love thee well? 
Not for the sake of winning heaven 

Nor of escai)ing hell. 

Not with the hof)e of gaining aught. 

Nor seeking a reward ; 
But freely, fully, as thy.self 

Hast lov^d me, O Lord! 

Even so I love thee, and will love. 
And in thy praise will sing, 

Solely because thou art my God 
And my eternal king. 

— Francis Xavier. 



I'VE FOUND A JOY IN SORROW 

I've found a joy in sorrow, 

A .secret balm for jiain, 
A beautiful to-morrow 

Of sunshine after rain; 
I've found a branch of healing 

Near every bitter spring, 
A whispered promise stealing 

O'er every broken string. 

I've found a glad hosaiuia 

For every woe and wail, 
A handful of sweet, manna 

When grapes of E.schol fail; 
I've found a Rock of Ages 

When desert wells were dry; 
And, after weary stages, 

I've found an Elim nigh — 



JESUS 



241 



An Elim with its coolness, 

Its fountains, and its shade; 
A blessing in its fullness 

When buds of promise fade; 
O'er tears of soft contrition 

I've seen a rainbow light; 
A glory and fruition 

So near! — yet out of sight. 

My Saviour, thee possessing, 

I have the joy, the balm. 
The healing and the blessing, 

The sunshine and the psalm; 
The promise for the fearful, 

The Elim for the faint, 
The rainbow for the tearful, 

The glory for the saint! 



PATIENCE OF JESUS 

What grace, O Lord, and beauty shone 

Around thy steps below! 
What patient love was seen in all 

Thy life and death of woe ! 

For ever on thy burdened heart 

A weight of sorrow hung; 
Yet no ungentle, murmuring word 

Escaped thy silent tongue. 

Thy foes might hate, despise, revile, 
Thy friends unfaithful prove; 

Unwearied in forgiveness still, 
Thy heart could only love. 

O give us hearts to love like thee, 
Like thee, O Lord, to grieve 

Far more for others' sins than all 
The wrongs that we receive. 

One with thyself, may every eye 

In us, thy brethren, see 
That gentleness and grace that spring 

From union, Lord, with thee. 

— Edward Denny. 



True wisdom is in leaning 

On Jesus Christ, our Lord; 
True wisdom is in trusting 

His own life-giving word; 
True wisdom is in living 

Near Jesus every day; 
True wisdom is in walking 

Where he shall lead the way. 



j^TELL ME ABOUT THE MASTER 

Tell me about the Master! 

I am weary and worn to-night, 
The day lies behind me in shadow, 

And only the evening is light ; 
Light with a radiant glory 

That lingers about the west; 
My poor heart is aweary, aweary, 

And longs, like a child, for rest. 

Tell me about the Master! 

Of the hills he in loneliness trod. 
When the tears and the blood of his 
anguish 

Dropped down on Judea's sod. 
For to me life's numerous mile-stones 

But a sorrowful journey mark; 
Rough lies the hill country before me, 

The mountains behind me are dark. 

Tell me about the Master! 

Of the wrong he freely forgave: 
Of his love and tender compassion, 

Of his love that is mighty to save ; 
For my heart is aweary, aweary 

Of the woes and temptations of life. 
Of the error that stalks in the noonday. 

Of falsehood and malice and strife. 

Yet I know that, whatever of sorrow 

Or pain or temptation befall. 
The infinite Master has suffered. 

And knoweth and pitieth all. 
So tell me the sweet old story. 

That falls on each wound like a balm. 
And my heart that was bruised and 
broken 

Shall grow patient and strong and 
calm. 



JESU 

Jesu is in my heart, his sacred name 
Is deeply carved there; but the other 

week 
A great affliction broke the little frame. 
E'en all to pieces; which I went to seek; 
And first I found the corner where was J, 
After where ES, and next where U was 

graved. 
When I had got these parcels, instantly 
I sat me down to spell them, and per- 
ceived 
That to my broken heart he was I 
EASE YOU, 

And to my whole is JESU. 

— George Herbert. 



a4a 



JESUS 



SEALED 

1 am ihiiu" own, O (Mirisl — 
llcin'i-fortli i'iitin-l\' tl\ini>; 
Aiul lilV from this ^\tu\ hour, 
New lifo, is miiu'l 

No <\ir(l\ly joy shall Imv 

My quii'l soul from tlu'o; 
This i!fi'|) (l»'li)^hl, so \nnv, 
is hravi'ti to im>. 

My little s<>nii of praise 

In swi'et eotiteiit I siiij^; 
To tlu'c the note 1 raise. 

My Kin);, my Kini;! 

I eannol tell the art 

Hy whieh sneh hliss is )^iven; 
I know thou hast my heart, 
And 1 — have lu'aven! 

() peaee! O holy rest! 

() balmy Wreath of love! 
U heart divini'st , best. 

Thy depth 1 prove. 

1 ask this i;irt of Ihei — 

A life all lily fair, 
Anil frai;rant as the );ardens be 
\Vlu"ie serajihs are. 

—Helen Uradlev. 



JESUS. M\' COD AND MV ALL 

() lesnst jesus! dearest Ltird! 

|'\>ri;ive me if 1 say 
l'\)r very love thy saefed name 

A thousami times a day. 

1 love thee so, 1 know not how 

My transports to eontrol; 
'IMiy lov<" is like a bnrnini; (ire 

Within my very soul. 

() wonderful! that thou shouldst let 

So \ile a heart as mine 
Love thee with sueh a lov»> as this, 

Ami make so fn>e with thine. 

The eraft of this wise world of ours 

Poor wisdom sei>ms to me; 
All! tlearest jestist I have jj^rown 

t'hildi.sh with love of thee! 

•""or thou to me art all in all, 

My honor and my wealth. 
My lieart's desire, my body's strength, 

My siiul's eternal lu'.dth. 



Hurn, burn, O Love! within my heart 
Burn liereely uiy^ht and ^i.^\ , 

'Till all the dross of earthly loves 
Is burned, and burned away. 

C) li.uht in ilarkness, joy in ^rief, 

() heav<Mi be^un on earth! 
Jesus! mv lovi-! my treasure! who 

Can tell what thou art worth? 

() [esusl JosusI sweetest Lord I 

\Vhat art thou t\ot to me? 
i'laeh ho\u' brinj^s jt)ys before md^nown, 
ICaeh ilay new liberty! 

What limit is there to thee, love? 

Thy llij^ht where wilt thou slay? 
On! on! our Lord is swi>eter far 

To-ilay than yesterday. 

O lo\i< of )esus! blessed love! 

So will it ever be; 
Time eannot hold thy woiulrous j^rowth, 

No, nor eternity. 

— Krederiek William I'\iber. 



LOVE jOV 



As on a window late 1 east mine eye, 
I .saw a viiu- drop ^rajies with J anil C 
AmuMl'd on exciy buneli. One stand- 
ing; by 
Ask'il what it meant. 1 (who am ncNcr 

loth 
To si>eiid my judj;inent) said it seem'd 

to me 
To !>(• the body and the letters both 
t)f joy and Cliarity. Sir, yi>u have not 

missM, 
The man replied; it tij;ines | I'^SUS 

tMikisr. 

— George Herbert. 



WHY Nor? 



Why not l(>ave them all with Jesus — 

All thy eares. 
All the things that fret thee daily, 

ICarth's alTairs? 
Pour out all thy sin and longing; 

He has felt 
Need of human love as thou hast, 

And li.is knelt 
At his l''a tiler's feet, imploring, 

I-'or the day, 
Strength to guanl against temptntion 

My the way. 



JESUS 



Mi 



Why not leave llicm all with Jesus — 

On his bn-ast 
l"'iii(i a i)alm for all carth-suflerinj^', 

IVacc and rest? 
Ah! he knows tiiat thou hast striven 

To walk ri}(ht; 
Longs to make the thorny pathway 

Clear and hrij^ht. 
See, he bathes thy feet, all bleeding, 

With his tears! 
Give to him tlivself, thy burden, 

And thy fears. 



JESUS ON THE SEA 

When the storm of tin- mountains on 
Oalilee fell 
And lifted its waters on high — 
And the faithless discij)les were bound 

in the spell 
Of mysterious alarm — their terrors to 
quell 
Jesus whispered, "Fear not: it is I." 

The storm could not bury that word in 
the wave. 
For 'twas taught through the temi)est 
to Hy; 
It shall reach his discii)les in every clime. 
And his v<jieo shall be near, m each 
troublous time, 
Saying, "Ho not afraid: it is I." 

When the sjjirit is Ijroken with sickness 
or sorrow, 
And comfort is ready to die; 
The darkness shall jtass and, in gladness 

to-morrow. 
The wounded complete consolation shall 
borrow 
From his life-giving word, "It is I." 

When d«'ath is at hand, and the cottage 
of clay 
Is left with a tremulous sigh. 
The gracious forerunner is smoothing 

the way 
l''(jr its tenant to pass to unchangeable 
day. 
Saying, "He not afraid: it is I." 

When the waters are passed, and the 
glories unknown 
Burst forth on the wondering eye, 
The cf)mpassionate "Lamb in the midst 

of the throncr " 
Shall welcome, encourage, and comfort 
his own, 
And say, "Be not afraid: it is I." 



LliT US SICE JESUS 

We would see Jesus — for the shadows 
lengthen 
Across the little landscape of our life; 
We would see Jesus — our weak faith to 
strengthen 
For the last weariness, the mf)rtal 
strife. 

We would see Jesus — for life's hand hath 
rested 
With its dark touch on weary heart 
and brow; 
And tliough our souls have many billows 
breasted 
(Jthers are rising in the distance now. 

We would see Jesus — other lights are 
paling 
Which for long years we have rejoiced 
to see; 
The blessings of our pilgrimage are 
failing — 
We would not mourn them, ff^r we 
come to thee. 

We would see Jesus — yet the sjiirit 
lingers 
Round the dear object it has loved so 
long, 
And earth from earth will scarce unclose 
its lingers, 
Our love for thee makes not this love 
less strong. 

We would see Jesus — the strong Rock- 
foundation 
Whereon our feet are set by sovereign 
gra(!e; 
Not life or death, with all their agitation. 
Can thence remove us if we seek his 
face. 

We would sec Jesus — sense is all too 
blinding, 
And heaven appears too dim and far 
away ; 
We would see Jesus — to gain the sweet 
reminding 
That thf)u hast jiromised our great 
debt to ])ay. 

We would see Jesus — that is all we're 
needing, 
Strength, joy, and willingness come 
with the sight; 
We would see Jesus — dying, risen, plead- 
in >,'— 
Then welcome day, and farewell 
mortal night! — Anna B. Warner. 



S44 



JESUS 



A SONG OF LOVE 

To thee, O dear, dear Saviour! 

My spirit tiims for rest; 
My peace is in thy favor. 

My pillow on thy breast; 
Though all the world deceive me, 

I know that I am thine. 
And thou wilt never leave me, 

O blessed Saviour mine! 

In thee my trust abideth, 

On thee my hope relies, 
O thou whose love provideth 

For all beneath the skies! 
O thou whose mercy found me. 

From bondage set me free. 
And then forever bound me 

With threefold cords to thee I 

My grief is in the dullness 

With which this sluggish heart 
Doth open to the fullness 

Of all thou wouldst impart ; 
My joy is in thy beauty 

Of holiness divine. 
My comfort in the duty 

That binds my life to thine. 

Alas! that I should ever 

Have fail'd in love to thee. 
The only One who never 

Forgot or slighted me. 
O for a heart to love thee 

More truly as I ought. 
And nothing place above thee 

In deed, or word, or thought. 

O for that choicest blessing 

Of living in thy love, 
And thus on earth possessing 

The peace of heaven above! 
O, for the bliss that by it 

The soul securely knows, 
The holy calm and quiet 

Of faith's serene repose! 
— John Samuel Bewley Monsell. 



THE UNFAILING FRIEND 

O Jesus! Friend unfailing. 

How dear art thou to me! 
Are cares and fears assailing? 

I find my strength in thee! 
Why should my feet grow weary 

Of this my pilgrim way? 
Rough though the path, and dreary. 

It ends in perfect day. 



Naught, naught I covmt as treasure; 

Compared, O Christ, with thee! 
Thy sorrow without measure 

Earned peace and joy for me. 
I love to own, Lord Jesus, 

Thy claims o'er me and mine ; 
Bought with thy blood most precious, 

Whose can I be but thine? 

What fills my soul with gladness? 

'Tis thine abounding grace! 
Where can I look in sadness. 

But, Jesus, in thy face? 
My all is thy providing; 

Thy love can ne'er grow cold; 
In thee, my refuge, hiding, 

No good wilt thou withhold. 

Why should I droop in sorrow? 

Thou'rt ever by my side: 
Why, trembling, dread the morrow? 

what ill can e'er betide? 
If I my cross have taken, 

'Tis but to follow thee; 
If scorned, despised, forsaken. 

Naught severs me from thee! 

Oh, worldly pomp and glory! 

Your charms are spread in vain! 
I've heard a sweeter story, 

I've found a truer gain! 
Where Christ a place prepareth. 

There is my loved abode; 
There shall I gaze on Jesus, 

There shall I dwell with God! 

For every tribulation. 

For every sore distress. 
In Christ I've full salvation, 

Sure help, and quiet rest. 
No fear of foes prevailing! 

I triumph. Lord, in thee! 
O Jesus! Friend unfailing! 

How dear art thou to me! 



THE SONG OF A HEATHEN 
(Sojourning in Galilee, A. D. 32) 

If Jesus Christ is a man — 

And only a man — I say 
That of all mankind I cleave to him, 

And to him will I cleave alway. 

If Jesus Christ is a God — 

And the only God — I swear 
I will follow him through heaven and 
hell. 
The earth, the sea, the air. 

— Richard Watson Gilder. 



JESUS 



245 



"IT IS TOWARD EVENING" 
Abide with me, O Christ; thou must not 

go. 
For life's brief day is now far down 

the west; 
In dark'ning clouds my sun is sinking 

low; 
Lord, stay and soothe thy fretted 

child to rest. 

Abide with me ; ere I can fall on sleep 
My throbbing head must on thy breast 
recline, 
That I may hear anew thy voice, and 
feel 
The thrill of thy pierced hands in 
touch with mine. 

Abide with me; so then shall I have 
peace 
The world can never give nor take 
from me ; 
Nor life nor death can that calm peace 
disturb, 
Since life and death alike are gain 
through thee. 

If life, 'tis well; for though in paths of 
pain. 
In desert place afar, I'm led aside, 
Yet here 'tis joy my Master's cup to 
share ; 
And so I pray, O Christ, with me 
abide. 

'Tis gain if death; for in that far-off 

land — 

No longer far — no veil of flesh will dim 

For me the wondrous beauty of my 

King, 

As he abides with me and I with him. 

Abide with me; I have toiled gladly on, 
A little while, in stir of care and strife ; 

The task is laid aside at thy command, 
Make thou it perfect with thy perfect 
life. 



THE BLESSED FACE 

Jesus, these eyes have never seen 
That radiant form of thine; 

The veil of sense hangs dark between 
Thy blessed face and mine. 

I see thee not, I hear thee not, 
Yet art thou oft with me; 

And earth hath ne'er so dear a spot 
As where I meet with thee. 



Like some bright dream that comes un- 
sought 

When slumbers o'er me roll, 
Thine image ever fills my thought 

And charms my ravished soul. 

Yet though I have not seen, and still 

Must rest in faith alone, 
I love thee, dearest Lord, and will, 

Unseen but not unknown. 

When death these mortal eyes shall seal, 
And still this throbbing heart. 

The rending veil shall thee reveal. 
All-glorious as thou art. 

— Ray Palmer. 



TO THEE L--^ 

I bring my sins to thee 
The sins I cannot count. 

That all may cleansed be 
In thy once-opened fount. 

I bring them. Saviour, all to thee; 

The burden is too great for me. 

My heart to thee I bring. 
The heart I cannot read; 

A faithless, wandering thing, 
An evil heart indeed. 

I bring it. Saviour, now to thee, 

That fixed and faithful it may be 

To thee I bring my care. 

The care I cannot flee; 
Thou wilt not only share. 

But take it all lor me. 

loving Saviour, now to thee, 

1 bring the load that wearies n<e. 

I bring my grief to thee, 

The grief I cannot tell ; 
No words shall needed be. 

Thou knowest all so well, 
I bring the sorrow laid on me, 

suffering Saviour I all to thee. 

My joys to thee I bring. 

The joys thy love has given. 

That each may be a wing 
To lift me nearer heaven. 

1 bring them, Saviour, all to thee, 
Who hast procured them all for me. 

My life I bring to thee, 
I would not be my own; 

O Saviour! let me be 
Thine ever, thine alone! 

My heart, my life, my all, I bring 

To thee, my Saviour and my King. 



246 



JESUS 



WE LONG TO SEE JESUS 

We would see Jesus! we have longed to 
see him 
Since iirst the story of his love was 
told; 
We would that he might sojourn now 
among us, 
As once he sojourned with the Jews 
of old. 

We would see Jesus! see the infant 
sleeping, 
As on our mother's knees we, too, 
have slept; 
We would see Jesus! see him gently 
weeping, 
As we, in infancy, ourselves have wept. 

We would behold him, as he wandered 

lowly — 

No room for him, too often, in the 

inn — 

Behold that life, the beautiful, the holy, 

The only sinless in this world of sin. 

We would see Jesus! we would have him 
with us, 
A guest beloved and honored at our 
board ; 
How blessM were our bread if it were 
broken 
Before the sacred presence of the 
Lord! 

We would see Jesus ! we would have him 
with us, 
Friend of our households and our 
children dear. 
Who still, should death and sorrow come 
among us, 
Would hasten to us, and would touch 
the bier. 

We would see Tesus! not alone in sorrow, 
But we would have him with us in our 
mirth; 
He, at whose right hand are joys for- 
ever. 
Doth not disdain to bless the joys of 
earth. 

We would see Jesus! but the wish is 
faithless; 
Thou still art with us, who hast loved 
us well; 
Thy blessed promise, "I am with you 
always," 
Is ever faithful, O Immanuel! 

— Anna E. Hamilton. 



"TELL JESUS" 

When thou wakcst in the morning. 

Ere thou tread the imtried way 
Of the lot that lies before thee. 

Through the coming busy day. 
Whether sunbeams promise brightness, 

Whether dim forebodings fall, 
Be thy dawning glad or gloomy, 

Go to Jesus — tell him all! 

In the calm of sweet communion 

Let thy daily work be done; 
In the peace of soul outpouring, 

Care be banished, patience won; 
And if earth, with its enchantments, 

Seek the spirit to enthrall. 
Ere thou listen, ere thou answer, 

Turn to Jesus — tell him all. 

Then, as hour by hour glides by thee, 

Thou wilt blessed guidance know; 
Thine own burdens being lightened, 

Thou canst bear another's woe; 
Thou canst help the weak ones onward. 

Thou canst raise up those that fall ; 
But remember, while thou servest. 

Still tell Jesus — tell him all! 

And if weariness creep o'er thee 

As the day wears to its close. 
Or if sudden fierce temptation 

Brings thee face to face with foes. 
In thy weakness, in thy peril. 

Raise to heaven a trustful call; 
Strength and calm for every crisis 

Come — in telling Jesus all. 



ANYWHERE WITH JESUS 

Anywhere with Jesus, 

Says the Christian heart; 
Let him take me where he will, 

So we do not jxirt. 
Always sitting at his feet 

There's no cause for fears; 
Anywhere with Jesus, 

In this vale of tears. 

Anywhere with Jesus, 

Though he leadeth me 
Where the path is rough and long. 

Where the dangers be; 
Though he taketh from my heart 

All I love below. 
Anywhere with Jesus 

Will I gladly go. 



JESUS 



247 



Anywhere with Jesus — 

Thouj^li lie please to bring 
Into floods or fiercest flames, 

Into siirferinfj; 
Though he bid nie work or wait, 

Only bear for him — 
Anywhere with Jesus, 

This shall be my hymn. 

Anywhere with Jesus; 

I'or it cannot be 
Dreary, dark, or desolate 

When he is with me; 
He will love me to the end, 

Every need sujjply; 
Anywhere with Jesus, 

Should I live or die. 



OUR ROCK 



If life's pleasures cheer thee, 

Give them not thy heart, 
Lest the R[ifts ensnare thee 

From thy God to part; 
His praises speak, his favor seek, 

Fix there thy hope's foundation. 
Love him, and he shall ever be 

The Rock of thy salvation. 

If sorrow e'er befall thee, 

Painful thoup;h it be, 
Let not fear appall thee: 

To thy Saviour floe; 
He, ever near, thy prayer will hear, 

And calm thy perturbation ; 
The waves of woe shall ne'er o'erflow 

The Rock of thy salvation. 

Death shall never harm thee, 

Shrink not from his blow, 
For thy God shall arm thee 

And victory bestow; 
For death shall brinji; to thee no stinj:^, 

The grave no desolation ; 
'Tis gain to die with Jesus nigh — 

The Rock of thy salvation. 

— I'^rancis Scott Key. 



The dearest thing on earth to me 

Is Jesus' will ; 
Whate'er I do, where'er I be, 

To do his will. 
Worldly pleasures cannot charm me, 
Powers of evil cannot harm me. 
Death itself cannot alarm me, 

For 'tis his will. 



SWEET PROMISES 

Jesus, I have promisc;d. 
To serve thee to the end; 

He thou forever near me, 
My Master and my Friend. 

1 shall not fear the battle 

If thou art by my side. 
Nor wander iunn the pathway 
If thou wilt be my guide. 

let me feel thee near me; 
'J'he world is ever near; 

1 see the sights that dazzle. 
The tem])ting sovmds I hear; 

My foes are ever near me. 
Around me and within; 

But, Jesus, draw thou nearer. 
And shield my soul from sin. 

O Tesus, thou hast promised 

I'o all who follow thee. 
That where thou art in glory 

There shall thy servant be; 
And, Jesus, I have promised 

To serve thee to the end; 
O give me grace to follow 

My Master and my Friend. 

— John E. Bode. 



THE KING OF LOVE 

The King of love my Shejjherd is, 
Whose goodness faileth never; 

I nothing Tack if I am his. 
And he is mine forever. 

Where .streams of living water flow 
My ransomed soul he leadeth, 

And where the verdant pastures grow 
With food celestial feedeth. 

Perverse and foolish oft I strayed, 
But yet in love he sought me, 

And on his shoulder gently laid, 
And home rejoicing brought me. 

In death's dark vale I fear no ill. 
With thee, dear Lord, beside me; 

Thy rod and staff my comfort still. 
Thy cross before to guide me. 

And so, through all the length of day, 
Thy goodness faileth never; 

Good shepherd, may I sing thy praise 
Within thy house forever. 

— Henry W. Baker. 



248 



JESUS 



WE WOULD SEE JESUS 

We would see Jesus when our hopes are 
brightest 
And all that earth can grant is at its 
best; 
When not a drift of shadow, even the 
lightest, 
Blurs our clear atmosphere of perfect 
rest. 

We would see Jesus when the joy of 
living 
Holds all our senses in a realm of bliss, 
That we may know he hath the power 
of giving 
Enduring rapture more supreme than 
this. 

We would see Jesus when our pathway 
darkens, 
Beneath the dread of some impending 

ill; 

When the discouraged soul no longer 
barkens 
To hope, who beckons in the distance 
still. 

We would see Jesus when the stress of 
sorrow 
Strains to their utmost tension heart 
and brain; 
That he may teach us how despair may 
borrow 
From faith the one sure antidote of 
pain. 

We would see Jesus when our best are 
taken. 
And we must meet, unshared, all 
shocks of woe; 
Because he bore for us, alone, forsaken, 
Burdens whose weight no human 
heart could know. 

We would see Jesus when our fading 
vision. 
Lost to the consciousness of earth 
and sky, 
Has only insight for the far elysian ; 
We would see Jesus when we come to 
die! — -Margaret J. Preston. 



ALL THINGS IN JESUS 

Jesus, the calm that fills my breast. 
No other heart than thine can give; 

This peace unstirred, this joy of rest, 
None but thy loved ones can receive. 



My weary soul has found a charm 
That turns to blessedness my woe; 

Within the shelter of thine arm 
I rest secure from storm and foe. 

In desert wastes I feel no dread, 
Fearless I walk the trackless sea; 

I care not where my way is led. 
Since all my life is life with thee. 

() Christ, through changeful years my 
Guide, 

My Comforter in sorrow's night. 
My Friend, when friendless — still abide, 

My Lord, my Counsellor, my Light. 

My time, my powers, I give to thee; 

My inmost soul 'tis thine to move; 
I wait for thy eternity, 

I wait in peace, in praise, in love. 
— Frank Mason North. 



EVERYWHERE WITH JESUS 

Everywhere with Jesus; 

O how sweet the thought! 
Filling all my soul with joy, 

Deep with comfort fraught. 
Never absent far from him, 

Always at his side; 
Everywhere with Jesus, 

Trusting him to guide. 

Everywhere with Jesus; 

For no place can be 
Where I may not find him near, 

Very near to me; 
Closer than the flesh I wear — 

In iny inmost heart — 
Everywhere with Jesus; 

We shall never part. 

Everywhere with Jesus; 

Do whate'er I may. 
Work, or talk, or walk abroad, 

Study, preach, or pray, 
Still I find him, full of love. 

Ready ere I call. 
Everywhere with Jesus; 

He's my all in all. 

Everywhere with Jesus; 

Let the world assail. 
Naught can shake my sure repose, 

He will never fail. 
I am weak, but he is strong. 

Mighty to defend; 
Everywhere with Jesus, 

Safe with such a friend. 



JESUS 



249 



Everywhere with Jesus; 

Careful should I be 
Lest some secret thought of guile 

His pure eye may see. 
Holy, harmless, undefilcd, 

He no sin can know ; 
Everywhere with Jesus 

Spotless I may go. 

Everywhere with Jesus 

Would that all might say; 
Happy then beyond compare, 

Glad by night and day, 
All would taste of joy sublime, 

Perfect peace and rest: 
Everywhere with Jesus, 

Nothing could molest. 

— ^James Mudge. 



THE DEAREST FRIEND 

Do not I love thee, O my Lord? 

Then let me nothing love; 
Dead be my heart to every joy, 

When Jesus cannot move. 

Is not thy name melodious still 

To mine attentive ear? 
Doth not each pulse with pleasure bound 

My Saviour's voice to hear? 

Hast thou a Iamb in all thy flock 

I would disdain to feed? 
Hast thou a foe before whose face 

I fear thy cause to plead ? 

Would not mine ardent spirit vie 
With angels round the throne 

To execute thy sacred will. 
And make thy glory known? 

Thou know'st I love thee, dearest Lord, 

But O I long to soar 
Far from the sphere of mortal joys. 

And learn to love thee more. 

— Philip Doddridge. 



As by the light of opening day 
The stars are all concealed. 

So earthly pleasures fade away 
When Jesus is revealed. 

Creatures no more divide my choice; 

I bid them all depart: 
His name, his love, his gracious voice. 

Have fixed my roving heart. 

— John Newton. 



FAIREST LORD JESUS 

Fairest Lord Jesus! 

Ruler of all nature! 
O thou of God and man the Son! 

Thee will I cherish, 

Thee will I honor, 
Thee, my soul's glory, joy, and crown. 

Fair are the meadows. 

Fairer still the woodlands, 
Robed in the blooming garb of spring; 

Jesus is fairer, 

Jesus is purer, 
Who makes the woeful heart to sing. 

Fair is the sunshine. 

Fairer still the moonlight. 
And all the twinkling starry nost; 

Jesus shines brighter, 

Jesus shines purer 
Than all the angels heaven can boast. 
— From the German. 



THE CALL OF JESUS 

Jesus calls us; o'er the tumult 
Of our life's wild, restless sea. 

Day by day his sweet voice soundeth, 
Saying, Christian, follow me! 

Jesus calls us from the worship 
Of the vain world's golden store; 

From each idol that would keep us; 
Saying, Christian, love me more! 

In our joys and in our sorrows. 
Days of toil and hours of ease, 

Still he calls, in cares and pleasures. 
Christian, love me more than these! 

Jesus calls vis! by thy mercies, 
Saviour, may we hear thy call; 

Give our hearts to thy obedience. 
Serve and love thee best of all. 

— Cecil Frances Alexander. 



If washed in Jesus' blood. 

Then bear his likeness too, 
And as you onward press 

Ask, What would Jesus do? 
Be brave to do the right. 

And scorn to be untrue; 
When fear would whisper, Yield, 

Ask, What would Jesus do? 



LIFE 

'I'IMK, OlM'OR'lUNnY. KXri'.RlKNCK, CIIARACIKR 



WITHOUT lIASriC AND VVI 1 IIOUI" 
K ICS r 

Wilhotil haste uiul without, rest; 

Mind Ihf iiiotto !<> thy lufiist. 

\U\iv it with t \\vv as a spoil, 

Sloi'm Of sniiMhiiic, jMiaid it Wfli! 

I h-f(l not llowfis I liat foimd t Irv hlooiii ; 

Hear it onward to jlic toiiiM 

Ilasti' not U't MO thoii}.;lit!»'SS di-cd 
Mar the si>irit.'s steady speed; 
I'oiider well, iiiid know the ri}^ht. 
Onward, then, with all thy niiKht ; 
Haste not — years lan ne'er atone 
I'^or one reeUless aetion donel 

Rest not life is swei'pinj.; hy. 

I )o and dari' hel'ori' ynu die; 

SonielliinK worthy and suMimc 

l.ea\e beiiind to eoncpier time; 

(dorions 'tis to live for aye. 

When these forms have passed iiway. 

Haste not — rest not. Calm in strife 
Meekly hear the storms of life; 
Duty he thy polar ^Miide; 
Do the rijs'ht, whate'er hetide; 
Haste not — rest not. Confliets past, 
(!od shall crown Ihv work at, last I 

Johann Wolf}.;an}; von (ioetho. 



WHY DO I LlViC? 



\ 



1 live for those who lovo me; 

For those 1 know are trne; 
l''or the heaven that sniili-s al)ov»^ me 

And awaits mv spiiit. too; 
l''or all hnman ties that hind me, 
I'^or the task my (Jod assi^;n(>d me, 
l'\)r the hri^dil lioiio left behind nu-. 

And \\\c };o(id tliat 1 can do. 

I live to learn their story 
Who snITered for my sake, 

To emnlate their elory 
And follow in their wake; 

Bards, martyrs, patriots, saf^jes, 

The nobles of all a^es, 

Whose deeds erown History's pajjes 
And time's great volume make. 



I ii\'e to hail tile season- ■ 
Hy >;ilU-d minds foretold-— 

VVIitn man fihall live by reason, 
And not. alone for K^lfJ'. 

When man to man nnited, 

And every wronj.j thine rij.;hteil. 

The whole world shall j)e lij.;hteci 
As ICden was of old. 

I live to hold eomnnmion 

Willi all that is divine. 
I'l^ lei'l that, t here i;; imion 

"I uixl natme's heart and mine; 
To prolit. by alllietion. 
Reap tinth from li<'Ids of fiction, 
(iidw wiser from eonxietion, 

I'^illillinj.; (iod's desi^'ji. 

I li\c for those who lovi^ me, 

l''of liiose who know nu- trtu", 
I'Nir the hea\'en that smiles above me 

And awaits my spirit too; 
For the wrongs that need resist anee, 
l''or the eanse that needs assistanee, 
l'\ir the fntinc in the distance. 
And the good that 1 can do. 

— (Jeorgo Limiiens Itanks. 



DF.AUTHaJL THINGS 

Meaiitifnl faces are those that wear — 
It matters litlK- if <lark or fail' — 
Whole-.sonlcd honesty printeil there. 

Hcantiful c\<s are those that show 
bike crystal panes whoro hearth tires 

glow, 
Heantifnl thonj-hts that burn below. 

Heautiful lips art^ those whose words 
l,cii|> fiDin the heart, like songs of birds, 
N'et whose utterances pruden«e girds. 

Heantifnl luinds aic thoMt- that do 
Work thai 1: <.iiiii";|, and biave, and 

t riic, 
Moincnl by niorncnt the lonjj d.iy 

llnonj;h. 



350 



LIFE 



351 



Beautiful feet are those that co 
On kindly ministries to and fro — 
Down lowliest ways, if God wills it so. 

Beautiful shoulders are those that hear 
Ceaseless burdens of homely care 
With patient grace and daily prayer. 

Beautiful lives are those that bless — 
Silent rivers of hapjjiness 
Whose hidden fountain hut few may 
guess. 

Beautiful twilight, at set of sun ; 
Beautiful goal, with race well won ; 
Beautiful rest, with work well done. 

Beautiful graves, where grasses creep, 
Where brown leaves fall, where drifts lie 

deep 
Over worn-out hands — O, beautiful 

sleep. 



AT SUNSET 

It isn't the thing you do, dear. 

It's the thing you've left undone 
Which gives you a bit of heartache 

At the setting of the sim. 
The tender word forgotten. 

The letter you did not write. 
The liower you might have sent, dear. 

Are your haunting ghosts to-night. 

The stone you might have lifted 

Out of a brother's way, 
The bit of heartsome coinisel 

You were hurried too much to say, 
The loving touch of the hand, dear, 

The gentle and winsome tone 
That you had no time or thought for, 

With troubles enough (jf your own. 

The little act of kindness, 

So easily out of mind; 
Those chances to be angels, 

Which every mortal finds — 
They come in night and silence — 

Kach chill, reproachful wraith — 
When hone is faint and /i;iggiiig, 

And a blight has dro[)ped on faith. 

For life is all too short, dear, 

And sorrow is all too great, 
To suffer our slow compassion 

That tarries imtil too late; 
And it's not the thing you do, dear. 

It's the thing you leave undone. 
Which gives you the bit of heartache 

At the setting of the sim. 

— Margaret E. Sangster. 



THE BUILDERS 

All are architects of Fate, 

Working in these walls of Time; 

Some with massive deeds and great, 
Some with ornaments of rhyme. 

Nothing useless is, or low; 

Each thing in its place is best; 
And what seems but idle show 

Strengthens and supports the rest. 

For the structure that we raise 
Time is with material filled; 

Our to-days and yesterdays 

Are the blocks with which we build. 

Truly shape and fashion these; 

Leave no yawning gaps between; 
Tliink not, because no man sees. 

Such things will remain unseen. 

In the elder days of Art 

Builders wrought with greatest care 
Each minute and unseen part; 

For the gods see everywhere. 

Let us do our work as well. 

Both the unseen and the seen; 

Make the house where gods may dwell 
Beautiful, entire, and clean; 

Else our lives are incomplete, 
Standing in thes*; walls of Time, 

Broken stairways, where the feet 
StumV)le as tney seek to climb. 

Build to-day, then, strong and sure, 
With a firm and ample base; 

And ascending and secure 

Shall to-morrow find its place. 

Thus alone can we attain 

To those turrets where the eye 

Sees the world as one vast plani 
And one boundless reach of sky. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



The stars shall fade away, the stm him- 
self 

Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in 
years, 

liut th<ju shalt flourish in immortal 
youth, 

Unhurt amid the war of elements, 

The wreck of matter, and the crash of 
worlds. — ^Joseph Addison. 



252 



LIFE 



RETROSPECTION 

He was better to me than all my hopes, 

He was better than all my fears; 
He made a road of my broken works 

And a rainbow of my tears. 
The billows that guarded my sea girt 
path 

But carried my Lord on their crest; 
When I dwell on the days of my wil- 
derness march 

I can lean on his love for the rest. 



He emptied my hands of my treasured 
store 
And his covenant love revealed; 
There was not a wound in my aching 
heart 
But the balm of his breath hath 
healed. 
Oh! tender and true was the chastening 
sore, 
In wisdom, that taught and tried, 
Till the soul that he sought was trusting 
in him 
And in nothing on earth beside. 

He guided by paths that I could not see, 

By ways that I have not known. 
The crooked was straight and the rough 
made plain, 

As I followed the Lord alone. 
I praise him still for the pleasant palms 

And the water sjirings by the way ; 
For the glowing pillars of flame by night 

And the sheltering clouds by day. 

There is light for me on the trackless wild 

As the wonders of old I trace. 
When the God of the whole earth went 
before 
To search me a resting place. 
Has he changed for me? Nay! He 
changes not. 
He will bring me by some new way, 
Through fire and flood and each crafty 
foe, 
As safely as yesterday. 

And if to warfare he calls me forth, 

He buckles my armor on; 
He greets me with smiles and a word of 
cheer 

For battles his sword hath won ; 
He wipes my brows as I droop and faint, 

He blesses rny hand to toil; 
Faithful is he as he washes my feet, 

From the trace of each earthly soil. 



Never a watch on the dreariest halt 

But some promise of love endears; 
I read from the past that my future shall 
be 
Far better than all my fears. 
Like the golden pot of the wilderness 
bread. 
Laid up with the blossoming rod, 
All safe in the ark, with the law of the 
Lord, 
Is the covenant care of my God. 

— Anna Shipton. 



ONE DAY'S SERVICE 

O to serve God for a day! 
From jubilant morn to the peace and 

the calm of the night 
To tread no path but his happy and 
blossoming way, 
To seek no delight 
But the joy that is one with the joy at 
heaven's heart; 

Only to go where thou art, 

God of all blessing and beauty! to 

love, to obey 
With obedience sweetened by love and 

love made strong by the right; 
Not once, not once to be drunken with 

self. 
Or to play the hypocrite's poisoned 

part. 
Or to bend the knee of my soul to the 

passion for pelf. 
Or the glittering gods of the mart; 
Through each glad hour to lay on the 

wings of its flight 
Some flower for the angels' sight; 
Some fragrant fashion of service, scarlet 

and white — 
White for the pure intent, and red where 

the pulses start. 
O, if thus I could serve him, could per- 
fectly serve him one day, 

1 think I could perfectly serve him for- 

ever — forever and aye! 

— Amos R. Wells. 



Life is a burden ; bear it. 

Life is a duty; dare it. 

Life is a thorn crown ; wear it. 

Though it break your heart in twain. 
Though the burden crush you down. 
Close your lips and hide the pain; 
First the cross and then the crown. 



LIFE 



2S3 



BETTER THINGS 

Better to smell the violet cool than sip 

the glowing wine ; 
Better to hark a hidden brook than 

watch a diamond shine. 

Better the love of gentle heart than 

beauty's favors proud, 
Better the rose's living seed than roses in 

a crowd. 

Better to love in loneliness than bask in 

love all day; 
Better the fountain in the heart than 

the fountain by the way. 

Better be fed by a mother's hand than 

eat alone at will; 
Better to trust in God than say, My 

goods my storehouse fill. 

Better to be a little wise than in knowl- 
edge to abound; 

Better to teach a child than toil to fill 
perfection's round. 

Better sit at a master's feet than thrill 

a listening state; 
Better suspect that thou art proud than 

be sure that thou art great. 

Better to walk in the realm unseen than 

watch the hour's event; 
Better the well done at the last than the 

air with shoutings rent. 

Better to have a quiet grief than a 

hurrying delight; 
Better the twilight of the dawn than 

the noonday burning bright. 

Better to sit at the water's birth than a 

sea of waves to win; 
To live in the love that floweth forth 

than the love that cometh in. 

Better a death when work is done than 
earth's most favored birth; 

Better a child in God's great house than 
the king of all the earth. 

— George Macdonald. 



Time is indeed a precious boon, 
But with the boon a task is given: 

The heart must learn its duty well 
To man on earth and God in heaven. 
— Eliza Cook. 



THE LENGTH OF LIFE 

Are your sorrows hard to bear? 

Life is short! 
Do you drag the chain of care ? 

Life is short! 
Soon will come the glad release 
Into rest and joy and peace; 
Soon the weary thread be spun. 
And the final labor done. 
Keep your courage! Hold the fort! 

Life is snort! 

Are you faint with hope delayed? 

Life is long! 
Tarries that for which you prayed? 

Life is long! 
What delights may not abide — 
What ambitions satisfied — 
What possessions may not be 
In God's great eternity? 
Lift the heart! Be glad and strong! 

Life is long! 

— Amos R. Wells. 



IS LIFE WORTH LIVING? 

Is life worth living? Yes, so long 

As there is wrong to right, 
Wail of the weak against the strong, 

Or tyranny to fight; 
Long as there lingers gloom to chase. 

Or streaming tear to dry, 
One kindred woe, one sorrowing face. 

That smiles as we draw nigh; 
Long as at tale of anguish swells 

The heart and lids grow wet. 
And at the sound of Christmas bells 

We pardon and forget; 
So long as Faith with Freedom reigns 

And loyal Hope survives. 
And gracious Charity remains 

To leaven lowly lives; 
While there is one untrodden tract 

For Intellect or Will, 
And men are free to think and act, 

Life is worth living still. 

— Alfred Austin. 



The Moving Finger writes, and having 

writ 
Moves on ; nor all thy piety nor wit 
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line, 
Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it. 
— Omar Khayyam. 



254 



LIFE 



LENGTH OF DAYS 

He liveth long who liveth well; 

All other life is short and vain ; 
He liveth longest who can tell 

Of living most for heavenly gain. 

He liveth long who liveth well ; 

All else is being flung away ; 
He liveth longest who can tell 

Of true things truly done each day. 

Waste not thy being; back to him 
Who freely gave it, freely give; 

Else is that being but a dream; 
'Tis but to be, and not to live. 

Be wise, and use thy wisdom well; 

Who wisdom speaks must live it too; 
He is the wisest who can tell 

How first he lived, then spoke the true. 

Be what thou seemest! live thy creed! 

Hold up to earth the torch divine; 
Be what thou prayest to be made; 

Let the great Master's steps be thine. 

Fill up each hour with what will last ; 

Buy up the moments as they go; 
The life above, when this is past, 

Is the ripe fruit of life below. 

Sow truth if thou the true wouldst reap ; 

Who sows the false shall reap the vain ; 
Erect and sotmd thy conscience keep; 

From hollow words and deeds refrain. 

Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure; 

Sow peace and reap its harvest bright; 
Sow sunbeams on the rock and moor. 

And find a harvest-home of light. 
— Horatius Bonar. 



REDEEMING THE TIME 

We would fill the hours with the sweetest 
things 
If we had but a day; 
We should drink alone at the purest 
springs 
In our upward way; 
We should love with a lifetime's love in 
an hour 
If the hours were few; 
We should rest not for dreams, but for 
fresher power 
To be and to do. 



We should guide our wajrward or wearied 
wills 
By the clearest light; 
We should keep our eyes on the heavenly 
hills 
If they lay in sight; 
We should trample the pride and the 
discontent 
Beneath our feet; 
We should take whatever a good God 
sent. 
With a trust complete. 

We should waste no moments in weak 
regret 
If the day were but one; 
If what we remember and what we for- 
get 
Went out with the sun; 
We should be from our clamorous selves 
set free 
To work and to pray. 
And to be what the Father would have 
us to be. 
If we had but a day. 

— Mary Lowe Dickinson. 



MORAL COSMETICS 

Ye who would have your features florid. 
Lithe limbs, bright eyes, unwrinkled 

forehead, 
From age's devastation horrid, 

Adopt this plan — 
'Twill make, in climate cold or torrid, 

A hale old man : 

Avoid in youth luxurious diet; 
Restrain the passion's lawless riot; 
Devoted to domestic quiet, 

Be wisely gay; 
So shall ye, spite of age's fiat, 

Resist decay. 

Seek not in Mammon's worship pleasure, 
But find your richest, dearest treasure 
In God, his word, his work; not leisure. 

The mind, not sense. 
Is the sole scale by which to measure 

Your opulence. 

This is the solace, this the science. 
Life's purest, sweetest, best appliance, 
That disappoints not man's reliance, 

Whate'er his state; 
But challenges, with calm defiance. 

Time, fortune, fate. 

— Horace Smith. 



LIFE 



255 



STRENGTH FOR TO-DAY 

Strength for to-day is all that we need, 
As there never will be a to-morrow; 

For to-morrow will prove but another 
to-day, 
With its measure of joy and sorrow. 

Then why forecast the trials of life 
With such sad and grave persistence, 

And watch and wait for a crowd of ills 
That as yet have no existence? 

Strength for to-day — what a precious 
boon 

For the earnest souls who labor. 
For the willing hands that minister 

To the needy friend and neighbor. 

Strength for to-day — that the weary 
hearts 

In the battle for right may quail not, 
And the eyes bedimmed with bitter tears 

In their search for light may fail not. 

Strength for to-day, on the down-hill 
track. 

For the travelers near the valley. 
That up, far up, the other side 

Ere long they may safely rally. 

Strength for to-day — that our precious 
youth 
May happily shun temptation, 
And build, from the rise to the set of the 
sun. 
On a strong and sure foundation. 

Strength for to-day, in house and home. 
To practice forbearance sweetly; 

To scatter kind deeds and loving words 
Still trvisting in God completely. 



FAITHFUL 



Like the star 

That shines afar 

Without haste 

And without rest. 
Let each man wheel with steady sway 
Round the task that rules the day, 

And do his best! 
— ^Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. 



Who learns and learns, and acts not 

what he knows, 
Is one who plows and plows, but never 

sows. 



MORNING 

Lo here hath been dawning 

Another blue day; 
Think; wilt thou let it 

Slip useless away? 
Out of eternity 

This new day is bom; 
Into eternity 

At night will rettim. 
Behold it aforetime 

No eye ever did; 
So soon it forever 

From all eyes is hid. 
Here hath been dawning 

Another blue day; 
Think; wilt thou let it 

Slip useless away? 

— Thomas Carlyle. 



JUST FOR TO-DAY 

Lord, for to-morrow and its needs 

I do not pray; 
Keep me, my God, from stain of sin 

Just for to-day. 
Help me to labor earnestly. 

And duly pray; 
Let me be kind in word and deed. 

Father, to-day. 

Let me no wrong or idle word 

Unthinking say; 
Set thou a seal upon my lips 

Through all to-day. 
Let me in season. Lord, be grave, 

In season gay; 
Let me be faithful to thy grace, 

Dear Lord, to-day. 

And if, to-day, this life of mine 

Should ebb away, 
Give me thy sacrament divine, 

Father, to-day. 
So for to-morrow and its needs 

I do not pray; 
Still keep me, guide me, love me, Lord, 

Throiigh each to-day. 

— Ernest R. Wilberforce. 



That life is long which answers life's 

great end; 
The time that bears no fruit deserves 

no name; 
The man of wisdom is the man of years. 
— Edward Young. 



2S6 



LIFE 



JUST ONE DAY 

If I could live to God for just one day, 
One blessed day, from rosy dawn of 

light 
Till purple twilight deepened into 

night, 
A day of faith unfaltering, trust com- 
plete, 
Of love unfeigned and perfect charity. 
Of hope undimmed, of courage past dis- 
may. 
Of heavenly peace, patient humility — 
No hint of duty to constrain my feet, 
No dream of ease to lull to listlessness. 
Within my heart no root of bitterness, 
No yielding to temptation's subtle sway, 
Methinks, in that one day would so 

expand 
My soul to meet such holy, high de- 
mand 
That never, never more could hold me 

bound 
This shriveling husk of self that wraps 
me round. 
So might I henceforth live to God alway. 
— Susan E. Gammons. 



NOW 

Forget the past and live the present 
hour ; 
Now is the time to work, the time to 

fill 
The soul with noblest thoughts, the 
time to will 
Heroic deeds, to use whatever dower 
Heaven has bestowed, to test our ut- 
most power. 
Now is the time to live, and, better 

still, 
To serve our loved ones; over passing 
ill 
To rise triumphant; thus the perfect 

flower 
Of life shall come to fruitage; wealth 
amass 
For grandest giving ere the time be 

gone. 
Be glad to-day — to-morrow may bring 
tears ; 
Be brave to-day; the darkest night will 
pass 
And golden days will usher in the 

dawn; 
Who conquers now shall rule the 
coming years. 

— Sarah Knowles Bolton. 



THE HOURS 

The hours are viewless angels, 

That still go gliding by, 
And bear each minute's record up 

To him who sits on high; 
And we who walk among them. 

As one by one departs. 
See not that they are hovering 

Forever round our hearts. 

Like summer bees that hover 

Around the idle flowers. 
They gather every act and thought, 

Those viewless angel-hours; 
The poison or the nectar 

The heart's deep flower cups yield, 
A sampl'e still they gather swift, 

And leave us in the field. 

And some flit by on pinions 

Of joyous gold and blue, 
And some flag on with drooping wing 

Of sorrow's darker hue; 
But still they steal the record 

And bear it far away; 
Their mission-flight, by day and night. 

No magic power can stay. 

And as we spend each minute 

That God to us has given, 
The deeds are known before his throne. 

The tale is told in heaven. 
Those bee-like hours we see not. 

Nor hear their noiseless wings; 
We often feel — too oft — when flown 

That they have left their stings. 

So teach me, heavenly Father, 

To meet each flying hour, 
That as they go they may not show 

My heart a poison flower! 
So, when death brings its shadows. 

The hours that linger last 
Shall bear my hopes on angels' wings. 

Unfettered by the past. 

— Christopher Pearse Cranch. 



TO-DAY 



The hours of rest are over. 

The hours of toil begin; 
The stars above have faded, 

The moon has ceased to shine. 
The earth puts on her beauty 

Beneath the sun's red ray; 
And I must rise to labor. 

What is my work to-day? 



LIFE 



257 



To search for truth and wisdom, 

To live for Christ alone, 
To run my race unburdened. 

The goal my Father's throne; 
To view by faith the promise, 

While earthly hopes decay; 
To serve the Lord with gladness — 

This is my work to-day. 

To shim the world's allurements. 

To bear my cross therein. 
To turn from all temptation, 

To conquer every sin; 
To linger, calm and patient. 

Where duty bids me stay. 
To go where God may lead me — 

This is my work to-day. 

To keep my troth unshaken, 

Though others may deceive; 
To give with willing pleasure. 

Or still with joy receive; 
To bring the mourner comfort, 

To wipe sad tears away; 
To help the timid doubter — 

This is my work to-day. 

To bear another's weakness, 

To soothe another's pain; 
To cheer the heart repentant, 

And to forgive again; 
To commune with the thoughtful, 

To guide the young and gay; 
To profit all in season — 

This is my work to-day, 

I think not of to-morrow. 

Its trial or its task; 
But still, with childlike spirit. 

For present mercies ask. 
With each returning morning 

I cast old things away; 
Life's journey lies before me; 

My prayer is for to-day. 



LIFE'S MIRROR 

There are loyal hearts, there are spirits 
brave, 

There are souls that are pure and true ; 
Then give to the world the best you have. 

And the best will come back to you, 

Give love, and love to your life will flow. 
And strength in your inmost needs; 

Have faith, and a score of hearts will 
show 
Their faith in your work and deeds. 



Give truth, and your gifts will be paid 
in kind. 
And song a song will meet; 
And the smile which is sweet will surely 
find 
A smile that is just as sweet. 

Give pity and sorrow to those who 
mourn; 
You will gather in flowers again 
The scattered seeds from your thought 
outborne, 
Though the sowing seemed in vain. 

For life is the mirror of king and slave, 
'Tis just what we are and do; 

Then give to the world the best you have 
And the best will come back to you. 
— Madeline S. Bridges. 



WHEN I HAVE TIME 

When I have time so many things I'll do 
To make life happier and more fair 
For those whose lives are crowded now 

with care; 
I'll help to lift them from their low 

despair 

When I have time. 

When I have time the friend I love so 

well 
Shall know no more these weary, toiling 

days; 
I'll lead her feet in pleasant paths always 
And cheer her heart with words of 

sweetest praise. 
When I have time. 

When you have time! The friend you 

hold so dear 
May be beyond the reach of all your 

sweet intent; 
May never know that you so kindly 

meant 
To fill her life with sweet content 
When you had time. 

Now is the time! Ah, friend, no longer 

wait 
To scatter loving smiles and words of 

cheer 
To those around whose lives are now so 

drear ; 
They may not need you in the coming 

year — 

Now is the time! 



2S8 



LIFE 



SOME RULES OF LIFE 

Have Faith in God 

What though the dark close round, the 
storm increase, 

Though friends depart, all earthly com- 
forts cease; 

Hath He not said, I give my children 
peace? 

Believe his word. 

Complain of Naught 

To murmur, fret, repine, lament, be- 
moan — 

How sinful, stupid, wrong! God's on the 
throne. 

Does all in wisdom, ne'er forgets his own. 
Be filled with praise. 

Watch Unto Prayer 

Think much of God, 'twill save thy soul 

from sin; 
Without his presence let no act begin; 
Look up, keep vigil, fear not; thou shalt 

win. 

See him in all. 

Go Armed with Christ 

He said, "I come, OGod, to do thy will." 
Shall we not, likewise, all his word fulfill, 
And find a weapon firm 'gainst every ill ? 
Put on the Lord. 

Be True, Be Sweet 

Let not the conflict make thee sour or 

sad; 
Swerve not from battle: faithful, loyal, 

glad— 
The likeness of our Saviour may be had. 
Aim high, press on! 

— ^James Mudge. 



Forenoon and afternoon and night, — 

Forenoon, 
And afternoon, and night, — Forenoon, 

and — what ? 
The empty song repeats itself. No 

more? 
Yea, that is Life: make this forenoon 

sublime. 
This afternoon a psalm, this night a 

prayer. 
And Time is conquered, and thy crown 

is won. 

— Edward Rowland Sill. 



I PACK MY TRUNK 

What shall I pack up to carry 
From the old year to the new? 

I'll leave out the frets that harry, 
Thoughts unjust and doubts untrue. 

Angry words — ah, how I rue them! 

Selfish deeds and choices blind; 
Any one is welcome to them! 

I shall leave them all behind. 

Plans? the trunk would need be double. 

Hopes? they'd burst the stoutest lid. 
Sharp ambitions? last year's stubble! 

Take them, old year! Keep them hid! 

All my fears shall be forsaken, 

All my failures manifold; 
Nothing gloomy shall be taken 

To the new year from the old. 

But I'll pack the sweet remembrance 
Of dear Friendship's least delight; 

All my jokes — I'll carry them hence; 
All my store of fancies bright; 

My contentment— would 'twere greater! 

All the courage I possess; 
All my trust — there s not much weight 
there ! 

All my faith, or more, or less; 

All my tasks; I'll not abandon 

One of these — my pride, my health; 

Every trivial or grand one 
Is a noble mine of wealth. 

And I'll pack my choicest treasures: 
Smiles I've seen and praises heard. 

Memories of imselfish pleasures, 
Cheery looks, the kindly word. 

Ah, my riches silence cavil I 

To my rags I bid adieu! 
Like a Croesus I shall travel 

From the old year to the new! 

— Amos R. Wells. 



The stars shine over the earth, 

The stars shine over the sea; 
The stars look up to the mighty God, 

The stars look down on me. 
The stars have lived for a million years 

A million years and a day; 
But God and I shall love and live 

When the stars have passed away. 



LIFE 



259 



^ OPPORTUNITY RENEWED 

They do me wrong who say I come no 
more 
When once I knock and fail to find 
you in; 
For every day I stand outside your door 
And bid you wake and ride to fight 
and win. 
Wail not for precious chances passed 
away. 
Weep not for golden ages on the wane ! 
Each night I burn the records of the day ; 

At sunrise every soul is bom again. 
Laugh like a boy at splendors that have 
sped, 
To vanished joys be blind and deaf 
and dumb; 
My judgments seal the dead past with 
its dead 
But never bind a moment yet to come. 
Though deep in mire, wring not your 
hands and weep; 
I lend my arm to all who say "I can ! " 
No shamefaced outcast ever sank so deep 
But yet might rise and be again a 
man. 
Dost thou behold thy lost youth all 
aghast ? 
Dost reel from righteous retribution's 
blow? 
Then turn from blotted archives of the 
past 
And find the future's pages white as 
snow. 
Art thou a mourner? Rouse thee from 
thy spell! 
Art thou a sinner? Sins may be for- 
given! 
Each morning gives thee wings to flee 
from hell. 
Each night a star to guide thy feet to 
heaven. 

— Walter Malone. 



Though life is made up of mere bubbles 
'Tis better than many aver, 

For while we've a whole lot of troubles 
The most of them never occur. 

— Nixon Waterman. 



A happy lot must sure be his — 
The lord, not slave, of things — 

Who values life by what it is 
And not by what it brings. 

— John Sterling. 



A BUILDER'S LESSON 

"Hov/ shall I a habit break?" 
As you did that habit make. 
As you gathered you must lose; 
As you yielded, now refuse. 

Thread by thread the strands we twist 
Till they bind us neck and wrist; 
Thread by thread the patient hand 
Must untwine ere free we stand. 
As we builded, stone by stone, 
We must toil — unhelped, alone — 
Till the wall is overthrown. 

But remember: as we try, 
Lighter every test goes by; 
Wading in, the stream grows deep 
Toward the center's downward sweep; 
Backward turn — each step ashore 
Shallower is than that before. 

Ah, the precious years we waste 
Leveling what we raised in haste; 
Doing what must be undone 
Ere content or love be won! 
First across the gulf we cast 
Kite-borne threads, till lives are passed, 
And habit builds the bridge at last! 



BUILDING 



We are building every day 
In a good or evil way, 
And the structure, as it grows, 
Will our inmost self disclose, 

Till in every arch and line 
All our faults and failings shine; 
It may grow a castle grand, 
Or a wreck upon the sand. 

Do you ask what building this 
That can show both pain and bliss, 
That can be both dark and fair? 
Lo, its name is character! 

Build it well, whate'er you do; 
Build it straight and strong and true ; 
Build it clear and high and broad; 
Build it for the eye of God. 

— I. E. Dickenga. 



Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what 

thou livest 
Live well, how long or short permit to 

heaven. — ^John Milton. 



26o 



LIFE 



HOLY HABITS 

Slowly fashioned, link by link, 

Slowly waxing strong, 
Till the spirit never shrink, 

Save from touch of wrong, 

Holy habits are thy wealth, 

Golden, pleasant chains; 
Passing earth's prime blessing — ^health. 

Endless, priceless gains. 

Holy habits give thee place 

With the noblest, best. 
All most godlike of thy race. 

And with seraphs blest. 

Holy habits are thy joy, 

Wisdom's pleasant ways. 
Yielding good without alloy. 

Lengthening, too, thy days. 

Seek them. Christian, night and morn; 

Seek them noon and even; 
Seek them till thy soul be born 

Without stains — in heaven. 

— Thomas Davis. 



MAKE HASTE, O MAN! TO LIVE 

Make haste, O man! to live. 
For thou so soon must die; 

Time hurries past thee like the breeze; 
How swift its moments fly. 
Make haste, O man! to live. 

Make haste, O man ! to do 

Whatever must be done, 
Thou hast no time to lose in sloth. 

Thy day will soon be gone. 
Make haste, O man! to live. 

To breathe, and wake, and sleep. 
To smile, to sigh, to grieve, 

To move in idleness through earth. 
This, this is not to live. 

Make haste, O man! to live. 

The useful, not the great; 

The thing that never dies, 
The silent toil that is not lost, 

Set these before thine eyes. 
Make haste, O man! to live. 

Make haste, O man! to live. 

Thy time is almost o'er; 
Oh! sleep not, dream not, but arise, 
The Judge is at the door. 
Make haste, O man! to live. 

— Horatius Bonar. 



TEACH ME TO LIVE 

Teach me to live! 'Tis easier far to die — 

Gently and silently pass away — 
On earth's long night to close the heavy 
eye 
And waken in the glorious realms of 
day. 

Teach me that harder lesson — how to 
live ; 
To serve thee in the darkest paths of 
Hfe; 
Arm me for conflict now, fresh vigor 
give. 
And make me more than conqueror 
in the strife. 

Teach me to live thy pvirpose to fulfill; 

Bright for thy glory let my taper shine ; 

Each day renew, remold this stubborn 

will; 

Closer round thee my heart's affections 

twine. 

Teach me to live for self and sin no more ; 

But use the time remaining to me yet; 
Not mine own pleasure seeking as before. 

Wasting no precious hours in vain 
regret. 

Teach me to live ; no idler let me be. 
But in thy service hand and heart 
employ. 

Prepared to do thy bidding cheerfully — 
Be this my highest and my holiest joy. 

Teach me to live — my daily cross to bear, 

Nor murmur though I bend beneath 

its load. 

Only be with me, let me feel thee near, 

Thy smile sheds gladness on the 

darkest road. 

Teach me to live and find my life in thee. 
Looking from earth and earthly things 
away. 
Let me not falter, but untiringly 

Press on, and gain new strength and 
power each day. 

Teach me to live with kindly words for 
all, 
Wearing no cold repulsive brow of 
gloom. 
Waiting with cheerful patience till thy 
call 
Summons my spirit to her heavenly 
home. 



LIFE 



261 



OPPORTUNITY 

Master of human destinies am I, 
Fame, love, and fortune on my footsteps 

wait. 
Cities and fields I walk; I penetrate 
Deserts and seas remote, and, passing by 
Hovel and mart and palace, soon or late 
I knock, unbidden, once at every gate! 
If sleeping, wake — if feasting, rise — be- 
fore 
I turn away. It is the hour of fate, 
And they who follow me reach every 

state 
Mortals desire, and conquer every foe 
Save death; but those who doubt, or 

hesitate, 
Condemned to failure, penury, and woe, 
Seek me in vain and uselessly implore; 
I answer not, and I return no more. 
— ^John James Ingalls. 



THREE DAYS 



So much to do; so little done! 

Ah! yesternight I saw the sun 

Sink beamless down the vaulted gray — 

The ghastly ghost of yesterday. 

So little done; so much to do! 
Each morning breaks on conflicts new; 
But eager, brave, I'll join the fray, 
And fight the battle of to-day. 

So much to do; so little done! 
But when it's o'er — the victory won — 
O then, my soul, this strife and sorrow 
Will end in that great, glad to-morrow! 
— ^James Roberts Gilmore. 



JUSTICE 

Three men went out one summer night; 

No care had they or aim. 
They dined and drank. Ere we go home 

We'll have, they said, a game. 

Three girls began that summer night 

A life of endless shame. 
And went through drink, disease, and 
death 

As swift as racing flame. 

Lawless, homeless, foul, they died; 

Rich, loved, and praised, the men. 
But when they all shall meet with God, 

And Justice speaks, what then? 
— Stopford Augustus Brooke. 



OPPORTUNITY IMPROVED 

This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream: 
There spread a cloud of dust along a 

plain ; 
And tmdemeath the cloud, or in it, 

raged 
A furious battle, and men yelled, and 

swords 
Shocked upon swords and shields. A 

prince's banner 
Wavered, then staggered backward, 

hemmed by foes. 
A craven hung along the battle's edge, 
And thought, ' Had I a sword of keener 

steel — 
That blue blade that the king's son 

bears — but this 
Blunt thing ! " he snapt and flung it 

from his hand. 
And lowering crept away and left the 

field. 
Then came the king's son, wounded, 

sore bestead. 
And weaponless, and saw the broken 

sword, 
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand. 
And ran and snatched it and, with 

battle-shout 
Lifted afresh, he hewed his enemy down. 
And saved a great cause that heroic day, 
— Edward Rowland Sill. 



DUM VIVIMUS VIVAMUS 

Live while you live, the epicure would 

say. 
And seize the pleasures of the passing 

day! 
Live while you live, the sacred preacher 

cries. 
And give to God each moment as it flies! 
Lord, in my views let both united be; 
I live in pleasure when I live to thee. 
— Philip Doddridge. 



It is bad to have an empty purse. 
But an empty head is a whole lot worse. 
— Nixon Waterman. 



Shut your mouth, and open your eyes. 
And you're sure to learn something to 
make you wise. 

— Nixon Waterman. 



262 



LIFE 



THE COMMON LOT 

Once, in the flight of ages past, 

There lived a man, and who was he? 

Mortal! howe'er thy lot be cast, 
That man resembled thee. 

Unknown the region of his birth; 

The land in which he died unknown ; 
His name has perished from the earth; 

This truth survives alone: 

That joy and grief and hope and fear, 
Alternate triumphed in his breast; 

His bliss and woe — a smile, a tear! 
Oblivion hides the rest. 

He suffered — but his pangs are o'er; 

Enjoyed — but his delights are fled; 
Had friends — ^his friends are now no 
more; 

And foes — ^his foes are dead. 

He saw whatever thou hast seen; 

Encountered all that troubles thee; 
He was — whatever thou hast been; 

He is — what thou shalt be. 

The roUing seasons, day and night, 
Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and 
man, 

Erewhile his portion, life, and light, 
To him exist in vain. 

The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye 
That once their shades and glory 
threw. 

Have left in yonder silent sky 
No vestige where they flew. 

The annals of the human race. 

Their ruins, since the world began, 

Of him afford no other trace 
Than this — there lived a man. 

— ^James Montgomery. 



Happy the man, and happy he alone. 
He who can call to-day his own ; 
He who, secure within, can say, 
"To-morrow, do thy worst; for I have 

lived to-day. 
Be fair or foul, or rain or shine. 
The joys I have possessed, in spite of 

fate, are mine. 
Not heaven itself upon the past has 

power. 
But what has been has been, and I have 

had my hour." 
— Horace, tr. by John Dryden. 



PROEM 

If this little world to-night 

Suddenly should fall through space 
In a hissing, headlong flight. 

Shriveling from off its face. 
As it falls into the sun, 

In an instant every trace 
Of the little crawling things — 

Ants, philosophers, and lice. 
Cattle, cockroaches, and kings, 

Beggars, millionaires, and mice, 
Men and maggots — all as one 

As it falls into the sun — 
Who can say but at the same 

Instant, from some planet far, 
A child may watch us and exclaim, 

"See the pretty shooting star!" 

— Oliver Herford. 



DOING AND BEING 

Think not alone to do right, and fulfill 
Life's due perfection by the simple 

worth 
Of lawful actions called by justice 
forth. 
And thus condone a world confused with 

ill! 
But fix the high condition of thy will 
To be right, that its good's spon- 
taneous birth 
May spread like flowers springing from 
the earth 
On which the natural dews of heaven 

distill ; 
For these require no honors, take no care 
For gratitude from men — but more 
are blessed 
In the sweet ignorance that they are 
fair; 
And through their proper functions 
live and rest. 
Breathing their fragrance out with 
joyous air. 
Content with praise of bettering what 
is best. — William Davies. 



And, since we needs must hunger, better 
for man's Jove 

Than God's truth! better for com- 
panions sweet 

Than great convictions! let us bear our 
weights 

Preferring dreary hearths to desert 
souls. 
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



LIFE 



263 



RICHES 

Since' all the riches of this world 

May be gifts from the devil and earthly 
kings, 
I should suspect that I worshiped the 
devil 
If I thanked my God for worldly 
things. 

— William Blake. 



Trust to the Lord to hide thee, 
Wait on the Lord to guide thee, 
So shall no ill betide thee 

Day by day. 
Rise with his fear before thee, 
Tell of the love he bore thee, 
Sleep with his shadow o'er thee. 

Day by day. 



Four things a man must learn to do 
If he would make his record true : 
To think without confusion clearly; 
To love his fellow-men sincerely; 
To act from honest motives purely; 
To trust in God and heaven securely. 
— Henry van Dyke. 



Each moment holy is, for out from God 
Each moment flashes forth a human 

soul. 
Holy each moment is, for back to him 
Some wandering soul each moment 

home returns. 

— Richard Watson Gilder. 



At thirty man suspects himself a fool; 
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ; 
At fifty chides his infamous delay, 
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; 
In all the magnanimity of thought 
Resolves, and re-resolves ; then dies the 
same. — Edward Young. 



Abundance is the blessing of the wise; 
The use of riches in discretion lies; 
Learn this, ye men of wealth: a heavy 

purse 
In a fool's pocket is a heavy curse. 

— From the Greek. 



FRIEND AND FOE 

Dear is my friend, but my foe too 

Is friendly to my good ; 
My friend the thing shows I can do, 

My foe the thing I should. 

— Johann C. F. von Schiller. 



How does the soul grow? Not all in a 
minute ; 

Now it may lose ground, and now it 
may win it; 

Now it resolves, and again the will 
faileth; 

Now it rejoiceth, and now it bewaileth; 

Now its hopes fructify, then they are 
blighted ; 

Now it walks sunnily, now gropes be- 
nighted; 

Fed by discouragements, taught by dis- 
aster. 

So it goes forward, now slower, now 
faster; 

Till, all the pain past and failure made 
whole, 

It is full grown, and the Lord rules the 
soul. 

— Susan Coolidge. 



Life is too short to waste 
In critic peep or cjTiic bark, 
Quarrel, or reprimand. 
'Twill soon be dark; 
Up! mind thine own aim, and 
God speed the mark! 

— Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



Pleasures are like poppies spread, 

You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; 

Or like the snow-fall in the river, 

A moment white — then melts forever; 

Or like the borealis race. 

That flit ere you can point their place; 

Or like the rainbow's lovely form, 

Evanishing amid the storm. 

— Robert Bums. 



I saw a farmer plow his land who never 

came to sow; 
I saw a student filled with truth to 

practice never go; 
In land or mind I never saw the ripened 

harvest grow. 
— Saadi, tr. by James Freeman Clarke. 



264 



LIFE 



CARES AND DAYS 

To those who prattle of despair 

Some friend, me thinks, might wisely 
say: 
Each day, no question, has its care, 
But also every care its day. 

— ^John Sterling. 



What imports 
Fasting or feasting? Do thy day's work; 

dare 
Refuse no help thereto; since help re- 
fused 
Is hindrance sought and found. 

— Robert Browning. 



I go to prove my soul! 
I see my way as birds their trackless 

way. 
I shall arrive! What time, what circuit 

first, 
I ask not ; but imless God send his hail 
Or blinding fireballs, sleet or stifling 

snow. 
In some time, his good time, I shall 

arrive : 
He guides me and the bird. In his 

good time. 

— Robert Browning. 



Art thou in misery, brother? Then, I 

pray. 
Be comforted ; thy grief shall pass away. 

Art thou elated ? Ah ! be not too gay ; 
Temper thy joy; this, too, shall pass 
away. 

Whate'er thou art, where'er thy foot- 
steps stray. 

Heed the wise words: "This, too, shall 
pass away." 



We live in deeds, not years ; in thoughts, 

not breaths. 
In feelings, not in figures on a dial. 
We should count time by heart-throbs. 

He most lives 
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts 

the best. 
Life's but a means unto an end ; that end 
Beginning, mean, and end to all things — 

God. — Philip James Bailey. 



WE DEFER THINGS 

We say, and we say, and we say. 
We promise, engage, and declare. 

Till a year from to-morrow is yesterday 
And yesterday is — where ? 

— ^James Whitcomb Riley, 



To be sincere. To look life in the eyes 
With calm, undrooping gaze. Always 

to mean 
The high and truthful thing. Never 
to screen 
Behind the unmeant word the sharp 

surprise 
Of cunning; never tell the little lies 
Of look or thought . Always to choose 

between 
The true and small, the true and large, 
serene 
And high above Life's cheap dishon- 
esties. 

The soul that steers by this unfading 
star 

Needs never other compass. All the far. 

Wide waste shall blaze with guiding 
light, though rocks 
And sirens meet and mock its straining 
gaze. 

Secure from storms and all Life's battle- 
shocks 
It shall not veer from any righteous 
ways. — Maurice Smiley. 



The lily's lips are pure and white without 

a touch of fire; 
The rose's heart is warm and red and 

sweetened with desire. 
In earth's broad fields of deathless bloom 

the gladdest lives are those 
Whose thoughts are as the lily and whose 

love is like the rose. 

— Nixon Waterman. 



We shape ourselves the ioy or fear 
Of which the coming life is made. 

And fill our future's atmosphere 
With sunshine or with shade. 

The tissue of the life to be 

We weave with colors all our own, 
And in the field of destiny 

We reap as we have sown. 

— John Greenleaf Whittier. 



LIFE 



265 



THE ROUND OF THE WHEEL 

The miller feeds the mill, and the mill 

the miller; 
So death feeds life, and life, too, feeds its 

killer. — ^John Sterling. 



If I were dead I think that you would 

come 
And look upon me, cold and white, 

and say, 
"Poor child! I'm sorry you have gone 

away." 

But just because my body has to live 
Through hopeless years, you do not 

come and say, 
"Dear child, I'm glad that you are 
here to-day." 



Who heeds not experience, trust him 
not; tell him 
The scope of our mind can but trifles 
achieve ; 
The weakest who draws from the mine 
will excel him — 
The wealth of mankind is the wisdom 
they leave. 

—John Boyle O'Reilly. 



A pious friend one day of Rabia asked 
How she had learned the truth of 
Allah wholly; 
By what instructions was her memory 
tasked ? 
How was her heart estranged from the 
world's folly? 

She answered, "Thou who knowest God 
in parts 
Thy spirit's moods and processes 
canst tell : 
I only know that in my heart of hearts 
I have despised myself and loved him 
well." 



There is a tide in the affairs of men 
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to 

fortune ; 
Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows and in miseries. 
— William Shakespeare. 



THE DESERT'S USE 

Why wakes not life the desert bare and 

lone? 
To show what all would be if she were 

gone. 

— John Sterling. 



So live that, when thy summons comes 

to join 
The innumerable caravan which moves 
To that mysterious realm where each 

shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death. 
Thou go not like the quarry slave at 

night 
Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sustained 

and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy 

grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his 

couch 
About him and lies down to pleasant 

dreams. 

— William Cullen Bryant. 



The time is short. 
If thou wouldst work for God it must 

be now. 
If thou wouldst win the garlands for thy 
brow, 

Redeem the time. 

I sometimes feel the thread of life is 
slender; 
And soon with me the labor will be 
wrought ; 
Then grows my heart to other hearts 
more tender; 

The time is short. 



The man who idly sits and thinks 
May sow a nobler crop than corn; 

For thoughts are seeds of future deeds. 
And when God thought, the world was 
bom. — George John Romanes. 



Thought is deeper than all speech, 
Feeling deeper than all thought; 

Souls to souls can never teach 

What unto themselves was taught. 
— Christopher Pearse Cranch. 



266 



LIFE 



That thou mayst injure no man dove- 

Hke be, 
And serpentlike that none may injure 

thee. 



The poem hangs on the berry bush 
Wnen comes the poet's eye. 

The street begins to masquerade 
When Shakespeare passes by. 

— WiUiam C. Gannett. 



Be thou a poor man and a just 

And thou maycst Hve without alarm; 

For leave the good man Satan must, 

The poor the Sultan will not harm. 

— From the Persian. 



Diving, and finding no pearls in the sea, 
Blame not the ocean ; the fault is in thee! 
— From the Persian. 



All habits gather by unseen degrees; 
As brooks make rivers, rivers run to 
seas. — John Dryden. 



Habits are soon assumed, but when we 

strive 
To strip them off 'tis being flayed alive. 
— William Cowper. 



So live that when the mighty caravan, 

Which halts one night-time in the Vale 
of Death, 

Shall strike its white tents for the morn- 
ing march. 

Thou shalt mount onward to the Eternal 
Hills. 

Thy foot unwearied, and thy strength 
renewed 

Like the strong eagle's for the upward 
flight. 



And see all sights from pole to pole, 
And glance and nod and bustle by, 
And never once possess our soul 
Before we die. 

— Matthew Arnold. 



Catch, then, O catch the transient hour; 
Improve each moment as it flies; 
Life's a short summer — man a flower. 
— Dr. Samuel Johnson. 



This world's no blot for us 
Nor blank; it means intensely, and 

means good: 
To find its meaning is my meat and 

drink. — Robert I3rowning. 



What is life? 
'Tis not to stalk about, and draw fresh 

air. 
Or gaze upon the sun. 'Tis to be free. 
— ^Joseph Addison. 



I see the right, and I approve it too. 
Condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong 
pursue. — Ovid. 



God asks not "To what sect did he be- 
long?" 
But, "Did he do the right, or love the 



wrong 



— From the Persian. 



Ships that pass in the night, and speak 

each other in passing. 
Only a signal sliown and a distant voice 

in (he darkness; 
So on the ocean of life we jiass and speak 

one another, 
Only a look and a voice, then darkness 

again and a silence. 

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



One wept all night beside a sick man's 

bed: 
At dawn the sick was well, the mourner 

dead. — From the Persian. 



'Tis life whereof otir nerves are scant, 
O Hfe, not death, for which we pant; 
More life and fuller that I want. 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



AGE AND DEATH 

MATURITY, VICTORY, HEAVEN 



A DEFIANCE TO OLD AGE 

Thou shalt not rob me, thievish Time, 
Of all my blessings or my joy ; 

I have some jewels in my heart 

Which thou art powerless to destroy. 

Thou mayest denude mine arm of 
strength, 
And leave my temples seamed and 
bare; 
Deprive mine eyes of passion's light. 
And scatter silver o er my hair. 

But never, while a book remains, 
And breathes a woman or a child, 

Shalt thou deprive me whilst I live 
Of feelings fresh and undefiled. 

No, never while the earth is fair. 
And Reason keeps its dial bright, 

Whate'er thy robberies, O Time, 
Shall I be bankrupt of delight. 

Whate'er thy victories o'er my frame, 
Thou canst not cheat me of this truth : 

That, though the limbs may faint and 
fail. 
The spirit can renew its youth. 

So, thievish Time, I fear thee not; 
Thou'rt powerless on this heart of 
mine; 
My precious jewels are my own, 

"Tis but the settings that are thine. 
— Charles Mackay. 



SIMPLE FAITH 

You say, "Where goest thou? " I cannot 

tell 
And still go on. If but the way be 

straight 
I cannot go amiss! Before me lies 
Dawn and the Day! the Night behind 

me; that 
Suffices me: I break the bounds: I vSee, 
And nothing more; believe, and nothing 

less. 
My future is not one of my concerns. 



A MORNING THOUGHT 

What if some morning, when the stars 
were paling. 
And the dawn whitened, and the 
East was clear. 
Strange peace and rest fell on me from 
the presence 
Of a benignant Spirit standing near. 

And I should tell him, as he stood be- 
side me, 
"This is our Earth — most friendly 
Earth, and fair; 
Daily its sea and shore through sun and 
shadow 
Faithful it turns, robed in its azure 
air; 

"There is blest living here, loving and 
serving. 
And quest of truth, and serene friend- 
ships dear; 
But stay not, Spirit! Earth has one 
destroyer — 
His name is Death; flee, lest he find 
thee here!" 

And what if then, while the still morn- 
ing brightened, 
And freshened in the elm the sum- 
mer's breath. 
Should gravely smile on me the gentle 
angel. 
And take my hand and say, "My 
name is Death." 

— Edward Rowland Sill. 



On parent knees, a naked, new-bom 

child. 
Weeping thou sat'st while all around 

thee smiled: 
So live that, sinking in thy last long 

sleep, 
Calm thou may'st smile while all around 

thee weep. 

— From the Persian. 



267 



268 



AGE AND DEATH 



EMMAUS 

Abide with us, O wondrous guest! 
A stranger still, though long possessed ; 
Our hearts thy love unknown desire, 
And marvel how the sacred fire 
Should burn within us while we stray 
From that sad spot where Jesus lay. 

So when our youth, through bitter loss 
Or ho])es deferred, draws near the cross. 
We lose the Lord our childhood knew 
And God's own word may seem mitruc; 
Yet Christ himself shall soothe the way 
Towards the evening of our day. 

And though we travel towards the west 
'Tis still for toil, and not for rest; 
No fate except that Hfc is done; 
At Emmaus is our work begun ; 
Then let us watch lest tears should hide 
The Lord who journeys by our side. 



NOT NOW BUT THEN 

Take the joys and bear the sorrows — 

neither with extreme concern! 
Living here means nescience simply; 

'tis next life that helps to learn. 
Shut those eyes next life will open — stop 

those ears next life will teach 
Hearing's office; close those lips next 

life will give the power of speech! 
Or, if action more amuse thee tnan the 

passive attitude. 
Bravely bustle through thy being, busy 

thee for ill or good. 
Reap this life's success or failure! Soon 

shall things be unpcrplexed, 
And the right or wrong, now tangled, lie 

unraveled in the next. 

— Robert Browning. 



CHEERFUL OLD AGE 



/ 



Ah! don't be sorrowful, darling. 
And don't be sorrowful, pray; 

For taking the year together, my dear, 
There isn't more night than day. 

'Tis rainy weather, my darling; 

Time's waves they heavily run ; 
But taking the year together, my dear. 

There isn't more cloud than sun. 

We are old folks now, my darling. 
Our heads are growing gray ; 

And taking the year togetncr, my dear. 
You will always find the May. 



We have had our May, my darling, 

And our roses long ago; 
And the time of year is coming, my dear, 

For the silent night and snow. 

And God is God. my darling, 

Of night as well as day. 
And we feel and know that we can go 

Wherever he leads the way. 

Ay, God of night, my darling; 

Of the night of death so grim; 
The gate that leads out of life, good wife, 

Is the gate that leads to him. 



For age is opportunity no less 

Than yottth itself, though in another 

dress. 
And as the evening twilight fades away 
The sky is filled with stars invisible by 

day. 



At sixty- two life has begun; 

At seventy-three begin once more ; 
Fly swifter as thou near'st the sun, 
And brighter shine at eighty-four. 
At ninety-five 
Shouldst thou arrive. 
Still wait on God, and work and thrive. 
— Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



For what is age but youth's full 

bloom, 
A riper, more transcendent youth? 
A weight of gold is never old. 



Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die. 
Nor leave thee, when gray hairs are nigh, 
A melancholy slave; 
Bvtt an old age serene and bright. 
And lovely as a Lai)land night, 
Shall lead thee to tny grave. 

— William Wordsworth. 



Fill, brief or long, my granted years 
Of life with love to thee and man; 
Strike when thou wilt, the hour of rest. 
But let my last days be my best. 

— ^John Greenleaf Whittier. 



An age so blest that, by its side. 
Youth seems the waste instead. 

— Robert Browning. 



AGE AND DEATH 



269 



ON THE EVE OF DEPARTURE 

At the midnight, in the silence of the 

sleep-time, 
When you set your fancies free. 
Will they pass to where — by death, 

fools think, imprisoned — 
Low he lies who once so loved you, 

whom you love so, 
— Pity me? 

O to love so, be so loved, yet so mis- 
taken ! 

What had I on earth to do 

With the slothful, with the mawkish, 
the unmanly? 

Like the aimless, helpless, hopeless, did 
I drivel 

— Being — who ? 

One who never turned his back, but 

marched breast forward. 
Never doubted clouds would break, 
Never dreamed, though right were 

worsted, wrong would triumph. 
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight 

better. 

Sleep to wake. 

No, at noonday, in the bustle of man's 

work-time. 
Greet the unseen with a cheer! 
Bid him forward, breast and back as 

either should be, 
"Strive and thrive!" cry, "Speed, — 
fight on, fare ever 

There as here ! ' ' 

— Robert Browning. 



Let no one till his death 
Be called unhappy. Measure not the 

work 
Until the day's out and the labor done; 
Then bring your gauges. 

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



I WOULD LIVE LONGER 
Phil. i. 23. 

O I would live longer, I gladly would 

stay, 
Though "storm after storm rises dark 

o'er the way"; 
Temptations and trials beset me, 'tis 

true, 
Yet gladly I'd stay where there's so 

much to do. 



O I would live longer — not "away from 

my Lord" — 
For ever he's with me, fulfilling his 

word ; 
In sorrow I lean on his arm, for he's 

near. 
In darkness he speaks, and my spirit 

doth cheer. 

Yes, I would live longer some trophy to 

win, 
Some soul to lead back from the dark 

paths of sin ; 
Some weak one to strengthen, some 

faint one to cheer. 
And heaven will be sweeter for laboring 

here. 

But — would I live longer? How can I 

decide. 
With Jesus in glory, still here to abide? 
O Lord, leave not the decision to me, 
Where best I can serve thee, Lord, there 

let me be. — L. Kinney. 



THERE IS NO DEATH 

There is no death! the stars go down 
To rise upon some fairer shore, 

And bright in heaven's jeweled crown 
They shine forever more. 

There is no death! the dust we tread 
Shall change, beneath the summer 
showers. 

To golden grain, or mellow fruit, 
Or rainbow-tinted flowers. 

There is no death! the leaves may fall, 
The flowers may fade and pass away — 

They only wait, through wintry hours. 
The warm sweet breath of May. 

There is no death! the choicest gifts 
That Heaven hath kindly lent to 
earth 

Are ever first to seek again 
The country of their birth; 

And all things that, for grief or joy. 
Are worthy of thy love and care, 

Whose loss has left us desolate. 
Are safely garnered there. 

They are not dead ! they have but passed 
Beyond the mists that blind us here, 

Into the new and larger life 
Of that serener sphere. 



270 



AGE AND DEATH 



They have but dropped their robe of 
clay- 
To put their shining raiment on ; 

They have not wandered far away — 
They are not "lost" or "gone." 

Though disenthralled and glorified, 
They still are here and love us yet ; 

The dear ones they have left behind 
They never can forget. 

— ^J. G. McCreery. 



PROSPICE (LOOK FORWARD) 

Fear death? — to feel the fog in my 
throat. 
The mist in my face; 
When the snows begin, and the blasts 
denote 
I am nearing the place, 
The power of the night, the press of the 
storm. 
The post of the foe; 
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a 
visible form? 
Yet the strong man must go; 
For the journey is done and the summit 
attained, 
And the barriers fall — 
Though a battle's to fight ere the guer- 
don be gained, 
The reward of it all. 
I was ever a fighter, so — one fight more. 

The best and the last! 
I would hate that death bandaged my 
eyes, and forbore, 
And bade me creep past. 
No! let me taste the whole of it, fare 
like my peers, 
The heroes of old. 
Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad 
life's arrears 
Of pain, darkness, and cold. 
For sudden the worst turns the best to 
the brave. 
The black minute's at end, 
And the elements' rage, the fiend voices 
that rave, 
Shall dwindle, shall blend. 
Shall change : shall become first a peace 
out of pain, 
Then a light, then thy breast, 
O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp 
thee again, 
And with God be the rest! 

— Robert Browning. 



OUR HOME ABOVE 

We thank thee, gracious Father, 

For many a pleasant day, 
For bird and flower, and joyous hour. 

For friends, and work, and play. 
Of blessing and of mercy 

Our life has had its share; 
This world is not a wilderness. 

Thou hast made all things fair. 

But fairer still, and sweeter. 

The things that are above; 
We look and long to join the song 

In the land of light and love. 
We trust the Word which tells us 

Of that divine abode; 
By faith we bring its glories nigh. 

While hope illumes the road. 

So death has lost its terrors; 

How can we fear it now? 
Its face, once grim, now leads to him 

At whose command we bow. 
His presence makes us happy, 

His service is delight. 
The many mansions gleam and glow, 

The saints our souls invite. . 

We welcome that departure 

Which brings us to our Lord ; 
We hail with joy the blest employ 

Those wondrous realms afford. 
We call it home up yonder; 

Down here we toil and strain 
As in some mine's dark, danksome 
depths ; 

There sunshine bright we gain. 

To God, then, sound the timbrel! 

There's naught can do us harm ; 
Our greatest foe has been laid low; 

What else can cause alarm? 
For freedom and for victory 

Our hearts give loud acclaim ; 
Whate'er befall, on him we call; 
North, South, East, West, in him we 
rest; 

All glory to his name! 

— ^James Mudge. 



AT LAST 



When on my day of life the night is 
falling. 
And, in the winds from tmsunned 
spaces blown, 
I hear far voices out of darkness calling 
My feet to paths unknown; 



AGE AND DEATH 



271 



Thou who hast made my home of life 
so pleasant, 
Leave not its tenant when its walls 
decay ; 

Love Divine, O Helper ever present. 
Be thou my strength and stay! 

Be near me when all else is from me 
drifting: 
Earth, sky, home's pictures, days of 
shade and shine. 
And kindly faces to my own uplifting 
The love which answers mine. 

1 have but Thee, my Father! let thy 

spirit 
Be with me then to comfort and up- 
hold; 
No gate of pearl, no branch of palm I 
merit. 
Nor street of shining gold. 

Suffice it if — my good and ill un- 
reckoned. 
And both forgiven through thy 
abounding grace — 
I find myself by hands familiar beck- 
oned 
Unto my fitting place. 

Some humble door among thy many 
mansions. 
Some sheltering shade where sin and 
striving cease. 
And flows forever through heaven's 
green expansions 
The river of thy peace. 

There, from the music round about me 
stealing, 
I fain would learn the new and holy 
song, 
And find at last, beneath thy trees of 
healing, 
The life for which I long. 

— ^John Greenleax Whittier. 



READY 



I would be ready, Lord, 

My house in order set, 
None of the work thou gavest me 

To do unfinished yet. 

I would be watching, Lord, 

With lamp well trimmed and clear, 
Quick to throw open wide the door. 

What time thou drawest near. 



I wovild be waiting, Lord, 

Because I cannot know 
If in the night or morning watch 

I may be called to go. 

I would be waking. Lord, 

Each day, each hoiu- for thee ; 

Assured that thus I wait thee well, 
Whene'er thy coming be. 

I would be living, Lord, 

As ever in thine eye ; 
For whoso lives the nearest thee 

The fittest is to die. 

— Margaret J. Preston. 



THALASSAI THALASSA! 

I stand upon the summit of my life, 
Behind, the camp, the court, the field, 

the grove. 
The battle and the burden ; vast, afar 
Beyond these weary ways, behold the 

Sea! 
The sea, o'erswept by clouds and winds 

and waves; 
By thoughts and wishes manifold; 

whose breath 
Is freshness and whose mighty pulse is 

peace. 

Palter no question of the horizon dim — 
Cut loose the bark! Such voyage, it is 

rest; 
Majestic motion, unimpeded scope, 
A widening heaven, a current without 

care. 
Eternity! Deliverance, promise, course. 
Time-tired souls salute thee from the 

shore. — Brownlee Brown. 



AT END 



At end of love, at end of life, 
At end of hope, at end of strife, 
At end of all we cling to so, 
The svm is setting — must we go? 

At dawn of love, at dawn of life, 
At dawn of peace that follows strife. 
At dawn of all we long for so, 
The sun is rising — let us go! 

— Louise Chandler Moulton. 



272 



AGE AND DEATH 



WHAT IS DEATH 

It is not death to die — 

To leave this weary road, 
And, 'mid the brotherhood on high. 

To be at home with God. 

It is not death to close 

The eye long dimmed by tears, 
And wake in glorious repose 

To spend eternal years. 

It is not death to bear 

The wrench that sets ns free 

From dungeon chain, to breathe the air 
Of boundless liberty. 

It is not death to fling 

Aside this sinful dust. 
And rise on strong exulting wing 

To live among the just. 

Jesus, thou Prince of life, 

Thy chosen cannot die! 
Like thee they conquer in the strife 

To reign with thee on high. 
— Abraham H. C. Malan, tr. by George 

Washington Bethune. 



UPHILL 



Does the road wind uphill all the way? 

Yes, to the very end. 
Will the day's journey take the whole 
long day? 

From morn to night, my friend. 

But is there for the night a resting-place ? 
A roof for when the slow dark hours 
begin. 
May not the darkness hide it from my 
face ? 
You cannot miss the inn. 

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? 

Those who have gone before. 
Then must I knock or call when just in 
sight? 
They will not keep you standing at the 
door. 

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and 
weak? 
Of labor you shall find the sum. 
Will there be beds for me and all who 
seek ? 
Yes, beds for oil who come. 

— Christina G. Rossetti. 



ON SECOND THOUGHT 

The end's so near, 

It is all one 
What track I steer. 

What work's begun. 

It is all one 

If nothing's done, 
The end's so near! 

The end's so near. 

It is all one 
What track thou steer, 

What work's begun — 

Some deed, some plan, 

As thou'rt a man! 
The end's so near! 

— Edward Rowland Sill. 



THE VOICE CALLING 

In the hush of April weather, 
With the bees in budding heather. 
And the white clouds floating, floating, 
and the sunshine falling broad ; 
While my children down the hill 
Rim and leap, and I sit still, 
Through the silence, through the silence 
art thou calling, O my God ? 

Through my husband's voice that 

prayeth, 
Though he knows not what he sayeth. 
Is it thou who, in thy holy word, hast 
solemn words for me ? 
And when he clasps me fast. 
And smiles fondly o'er the past. 
And talks hopeful of the future, Lord, 
do I hear only thee? 

Not in terror nor in thunder 
Comes thy voice, although it sunder 
Flesh from spirit, soul from body, 
human bliss from human pain ; 
All the work that was to do, 
All the joys so sweet and new. 
Which thou shew'dst me in a vision, 
Moses-like, and hid'st again. 

From this Pisgah, lying humbled, 
The long desert where I stumbled 
And the fair plains I shall never reach 
seem equal, clear, and far: 
On this mountain-top of ease 
Thou wilt bury me in peace; 
While my tribes march onward, onward 
unto Canaan and to war. 



AGE AND DEATH 



273 



In my boy's loud laughter ringing, 
In the sigh, more soft than singing. 
Of my baby girl that nestles up unto 
this mortal breast. 
After every voice most dear. 
Comes a whisper, "Rest not here." 
And the rest thou art preparing, is it 
best, Lord, is it best? 

Lord, a little, little longer! 
Sobs the earth love, growing stronger; 
He will miss me, and go mourning 
through his solitary days, 
And heaven were scarcely heaven 
If these lambs that thou hast given 
Were to slip out of our keeping and be 
lost in the world's ways. 

Lord, it is not fear of dying, 
Nor an impious denying 
Of thy will — which evermore on earth, 
in heaven, be done; 
But a love that, desperate, clings 
Unto these, my precious things. 
In the beauty of the daylight, and glory 
of the sun. 

Ah! thou still art calling, calling, 
With a soft voice unappalling; 
And it vibrates in far circles through the 
everlasting years; 
When thou knockest, even so! 
I will arise and go: 
What, my little ones, more violets? nay, 
be patient; mother hears! 

— Dinah Maria Mulock Craik. 



THE "SILVER CORD IS LOOSED" 

In the June twilight, in the soft, gray 

twiHght, 
The yellow sun-glow trembling through 

the rainy eve. 
As my love lay quiet, came the solemn 

fiat, 
"All these things for ever, for ever thou 

must leave." 

My love she sank down quivering like a 

pine in tempest shivering, 
"I have had so little happiness as yet 

beneath the sun; 
I have called the shadow sunshine, and 

the merest frosty moonshine 
I have, weeping, blessed the Lord for 

as if daylight had begun. 



"Till he sent a sudden angel, with a 

glorious sweet evangel. 
Who turned all my tears to pearl-gems, 

and crowned we — so little worth; 
Me! and through the rainy even changed 

my poor earth into heaven 
Or, by wondrous revelation, brought the 

heavens down to earth. 

"O the strangeness of the feeling! — O 
the infinite revealing, — 

To think how God must love me to have 
made me so content! 

Though I would have served him hum- 
bly, and patiently, and dumbly. 

Without any angel standing in the path- 
way that I went." 

In the June twilight, in the lessening 
twilight. 

My love cried from my bosom an exceed- 
ing bitter cry: 

"Lord, wait a little longer, until my 
soul is stronger! 

wait till thou hast taught me to be 

content to die!" 

Then the tender face, all woman, took a 

glory superhuman. 
And she seemed to watch for something, 

or see some I could not see: 
From my arms she rose full-statured, all 

transfigured, queenly- featured, — 
"As thy will is done in heaven, so on 

earth still let it be!" 

1 go lonely, I go lonely, and I feel that 

earth is only 
The vestibule of places whose courts we 

never win; 
Yet I see my palace shining, where my 

love sits amaranths twining. 
And I know the gates stand open, and I 

shall enter in! 

— Dinah Maria Mulock Craik. 



CROSSING THE BAR 

Sunset and evening star. 

And one clear call for me! 
And may there be no moaning of the 
bar 

When I put out to sea, 

But such a tide as, moving, seems asleep. 
Too full for sound and foam. 

When that which drew from out the 
boundless deep 
Turns again home. 



w. 



274 



AGE AND DEATH 



Twilight and evening bell, 

And after that the dark! 
And may there be no sadness of farewell 

When I embark; 

For though from out our bourne of Time 
and Place 
The flood may bear me far, 
I hope to see my Pilot face to face 
When I have crossed the bar. 

— Alfred Tennyson. 



LAUS MORTIS 

Nay, why should I fear Death, 
Who gives vts life, and in exchange takes 
breath ? 

He is like cordial spring, 
That lifts above the soil each buried 
thing; 

Like autumn, kind and brief, 
The frost that chills the branches frees 
the leaf; 

Like winter's stormy hours. 
That spread their fleece of snow to save 
the flowers; 

The lordliest of all things! — 
Life lends us only feet, Death gives us 
wings. 

Fearing no covert thrust, 
Let me walk onward, armed in valiant 
trust ; 

Dreading no unseen knife, 
Across Death's threshold step from life 
to life! 

O all ye frightened folk. 
Whether ye wear a crown or bear a yoke. 

Laid in one equal bed. 
When once your coverlet of grass is 
spread, 

What daybreak need you fear? 
The Love will rule you there that guides 
you here. 

Where Life, the sower, stands. 
Scattering the ages from his swinging 
hands. 

Thou waitest, reaper lone. 
Until the multitudinous grain hath 
grown. 

Scythe-bearer, when thy blade 
Harvests my flesh, let me be unafraid. 

God's husbandman thou art. 
In his unwithering sheaves, O, bind my 
heart ! 
— Frederic Lawrence Knowles. 



IMMANUEL'S LAND 

The sands of time are sinking. 

The dawn of heaven breaks. 
The summer mom I've sighed for — 

The fair, sweet morn awakes. 
Dark, dark hath been the midnight. 

But dayspring is at hand, 
And glory, glory dwelleth 

In Immanuel's land. 

I've wrestled on toward heaven 

'Gainst storm, and wind, and tide, 
Now, like a weary traveler 

That leaneth on his guide. 
Amid the shades of evening, 

While sinks life's lingering sand, 
I hail the glory dawning 

From Immanuel's land. 

Deep waters crossed life's pathway; 

The hedge of thorns was sharp ; 
Now these lie all behind me. 

O for a well-tuned harp! 
O to join the Hallelujah 

With yon triumphant band 
Who sing where glory dwelleth — 

In Immanuel's land! 

With mercy and with judgment 

My web of time he wove. 
And aye the dews of sorrow 

Were lustered with his love; 
I'll bless the hand that guided, 

I'll bless the heart that planned. 
When throned where glory dwelleth — 

In Immanuel's land. 

— Annie R. Cousin. 



The grave itself is but a covered bridge 
Leading from light to light through a 
brief darkness. 
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



I hold that, since by death alone 

God bids my soul go free. 
In death a richer blessing is 
Than all the world to me. 
— Scheffler, tr. by Frederic Rowland 
Marvin. 



DEATH 



Fearest the shadow? Keep thy trust; 

Still the star- worlds roll. 
Fearest death? sayest, "Dtist to dust"? 

No; say "Soul to Soul!" 

— ^John Vance Cheney. 



AGE AND DEATH 



275 



THE TENANT 

This body is my house — it is not I ; 

Herein I sojourn till, in some far sky, 

I lease a fairer dwelling, built to last 

Till all the carpentry of time is past. 

When from my high place viewing this 
lone star, 

What shall I care where these poor tim- 
bers are? 

What though the crumbling walls turn 
dust and loam — 

I shall have left them for a larger home. 

What though the rafters break, the 
stanchions rot. 

When earth has dwindled to a glimmer- 
ing spot! 

When thou, clay cottage, fallest, I'll 
immerse 

My long-cramp 'd spirit in the universe. 

Through uncomputed silences of space 

I shall yearn upward to the leaning 
Face. 

The ancient heavens will roll aside for 
me, 

As Moses monarch'd the dividing sea. 

This body is my house — it is not I. 

Triumphant in this faith I live, and die. 
— Frederic Lawrence Knowles. 



TO OUR BELOVED 

It singeth low in every heart, 

We hear it, each and all — 
A song of those who answer not, 

However we may call ; 
They throng the silence of the breast. 

We see them as of yore — 
The kind, the brave, the true, the sweet, 

Who walk with us no more. 

'Tis hard to take the burden up 

When these have laid it down; 
They brightened all the joy of life, 

They softened every frown ; 
But, O, 'tis good to think of them 

When we are troubled sore! 
Thanks be to God that such have been. 

Though they are here no more. 

More homelike seems the vast unknown 

Since they have entered there; 
To follow them were not so hard, 

Wherever they may fare ; 
They cannot be where God is not, 

On any sea or shore; 
Whate'er betides, thy love abides, 

Our God, for evermore. 

— ^John White Chadwick. 



A DEATH BED 

As I lay sick upon my bed 
I heard them say "in danger" ; 
The word seemed very strange to me 
Could any word seem stranger? 

"In danger" — of escape from sin 
For ever and for ever! 
Of entering that most holy place 
Where evil entereth never! 

"In danger" — of beholding him 
Who is my soul's salvation! 
Whose promises sustain my soul 
In blest anticipation! 

" In danger" — of soon shaking off 
Earth's last remaining fetter! 
And of departing hence to be 
"With Christ," which is far better! 

It is a solemn thing to die, 
To face the king Immortal, 
And each forgiven sinner should 
Tread softly o'er the portal. 

But when we have confessed our sins 
To him who can discern them, 
And God has given pardon, peace, 
Tho' we could ne'er deserve them, 

Then, dying is no dangerous thing; 
Safe in the Saviour's keeping, 
The ransomed soul is gently led 
Beyond the reach of weeping. 

So tell me with unfaltering voice 
When Hope is really dawning; 
I should not like to sleep away 
My few hours till the morning. 



Yet Love will dream and Faith will 

trust, 
(Since he who knows our need is just,) 
That somehow, somewhere meet we 

must. 
Alas for him who never sees 
The stars shine through his cypress 

trees! 
Who hopeless lays his dead away. 
Nor looks to see the breaking day 
Across the mournful marbles play; 
Who hath not learned in hours of faith 
This truth to flesh and sense unknown; 
That Life is ever lord of death, 
And Love can never lose its own! 

— John Greenleaf Whittier. 



276 



AGE AND DEATH 



AFTERWARD 

There is no vacant chair. The lovinj,' 
meet — 
A group unbroken — smitten, who 
knows how? 
One sitteth silent only, in his usual seat; 
We gave him once that freedom. 
Why not now? 

Perhaps he is too weary, and needs rest ; 

He needed it too often, nor could we 

Bestow. God gave it, knowing how to 

do it best. 

Which of us would disturb him ? Let 

him be. 

There is no vacant chair. If he will 
take 
The mood to listen mutely, be it done. 
By his least mood we crossed, for which 
the heart must ache, 
Plead not nor question! Let him 
have this one. 

Death is a mood of life. It is no whim 
By which life's Giver wrecks a broken 
heart. 
Death is life's reticence. Still audible 
to him, 
The hushed voice, happy, speaketh 
on, apart. 

There is no vacant chair. To love is 
still 
To have. Nearer to memory than to 
eye. 
And dearer yet to anguish than to com- 
fort, will 
We hold him by our love, that shall 
not die, 

For while it doth not, thus he cannot. 
Try! 
Who can put ovit the motion or the 
smile? 
The old ways of being noble all with him 
laid by? 
Because we love he is. Then trust 
awhile. 
— Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward. 



OUR TWO GIFTS 

Two gifts God giveth, and he saith 
One shall be forfeit in the strife — 
The one no longer needed : life. 

No hand shall take the other, death. 
— John Vance Cheney. 



ATHANASIA 

The ship may sink. 

And I may drink 
A hasty death in the bitter sea; 

But all that I leave 

In the ocean grave 
Can be slipped and spared, and no loss 
to me. 

What care I 
Though falls the sky 
And the shriveling earth to a cinder 
turn ; 
No fires of doom 
Can ever consvime 
What never was made nor meant to 
burn ! 

Let go the breath! 
There is no death 
To a living soul, nor loss, nor harm. 
Not of the clod 
Is the life of God — 
Let it mount, as it will, from form to 
form. 

— Charles Gordon Ames. 



LIFE 

Life! I know not what thou art, 
But know that thou and I must part; 
And when, or how, or where we met 
I own to me's a secret yet. 

But this I know — when thou art fled. 
Where'er they lay these limbs, this head, 
No clod so valueless shall be 
As all that there remains of me. 
O whither, whither dost thou fly? 

Where bend unseen thy trackless 
course ? 

And in this strange divorce, 
Ah, tell where I must seek this com- 
pound, I? 

Life! we've been long together. 
Through pleasant and through cloudy 

weather; 
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear. 
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; 
Then steal away, give little warning. 
Choose thine own time; 
Say not "Good Night," but in some 
brighter clime 
Bid me "Good Morning." 

— Anna Letitia Barbauld. 



AGE AND DEATH 



277 



THE STRUGGLE 

" Body, I pray you, let me go!" 

(It is a soul that struggles so.) 

"Body, I see on yonder height 

Dim reflex of a solemn light ; 

A flame that shineth from the place 

Where Beauty walks with naked face; 

It is a flame you cannot see — 

Lie down, you clod, and set me free. 

"Body, I pray you, let me go!" 

(It is a soul that striveth so.) 

"Body, I hear dim sounds afar 

Dripping from some diviner star; 

Dim sounds of joyous harmony, 

It is my mates that sing, and I 

Must drink that song or break my 

heart — 
Body, I pray you, let us part. 

"Comrade, your frame is worn and frail. 
Your vital powers begin to fail ; 
I long for life, but you for rest ; 
Then, Body, let us both be blest. 
When you are lying 'neath the dew 
I'll come sometimes, and sing to you; 
But you will feel no pain nor woe — 
Body, I pray you, let me go." 

Thus strove a Being. Beauty fain. 
He broke his bonds and fled amain. 
He fled: the Body lay bereft. 
But on its lips a smile was left, 
As if that spirit, looking back, 
Shouted upon his upward track. 
With joyous tone and hurried breath, 
Some message that could comfort 
Death. — Danske Dandridge. 



THE THREE FRIENDS 

Man in his life hath three good friends — 
Wealth, family, and noble deeds; 

These serve him in his days of joy 
And minister unto his needs. 

But when the lonely hour of death 
With sad and silent foot draws nigh, 

Wealth, then, and family take their 
wings. 
And from the dying pillow fly. 

But noble deeds in love respond, 

"Ere came to thee the fatal day, 
We went before, O gentle friend. 

And smoothed the steep and thorny 
way." 
— From the Hebrew, tr. by 

Frederic Rowland Marvin. 



AN OLD LATIN HYMN ^ 

How far from here to heaven? 
Not very far, my friend; 
A single hearty step 
Will all thy journey end. 

Hold, there! where runnest thou? 
Know heaven is in thee! 
Seek'st thou for God elsewhere? 
His face thou'lt never see. 

Go out, God will go in; 
Die thou, and let him live; 
Be not, and he will be; 
Wait, and he'll all things give, 

I don't believe in death. 
If hour by hour I die, 
'Tis hour by hour to gain 
A better life thereby. 

— ^Angelus Silesius, A.D, 1620. 



The chamber where the good man meets 

his fate 
Is privileged beyond the common walk 
Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of 

heaven. — Edward Young. 



Life-embarked, out at sea, 'mid the 

wave-tixmbling roar, 
The poor ship of my body went down 

to the floor; 
But I broke, at the bottom of death, 

through a door. 
And, from sinking, began for ever to 

soar, — From the Persian. 



Truths that wake to perish never; 
Which neither listlessness, nor mad en- 
deavor. 

Nor man, nor boy. 
Nor all that is at enmity with joy 
Can utterly abolish or destroy! 

Hence in a season of calm weather, 
Though inland far we be, 
Our souls have sight of that immortal 
sea 

Which brought us hither; 
Can in a moment travel thither 
And see the children sport upon the 

shore. 
And hear the mighty waters rolling 
evermore. 

— ^William Wordsworth. 



APPENDIX 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 



BE STRONG!' 

Be strong! 
We are not here to play, to dream, to 

drift, 
We have hard work to do, and loads to 

lift. 
Shun not the struggle, face it, 'tis God's 

gift. 

Be strong! 
Say not the days are evil — who's to 

blame ? 
And fold the hands and acquiesce — O 

shame ! 
Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in 

God's name. 

Be strong! 
It matters not how deep intrenched the 

wrong. 
How hard the battle goes, the day, how 

long; 
Faint not, fight on! To-morrow comes 
the song. 

— Maltbie D. Babcock. 



NOT TO BE MINISTERED UNTO 

O Lord, I pray 

That for this day 
I may not swerve 

By foot or hand 

From thy command, 
Not to be served, but to serve. 

This, too, I pray. 

That for this day 
No love of ease 

Nor pride prevent 

My good intent. 
Not to be pleased, but to please. 

And if I may 

I'd have this day 
Strength from above 

To set my heart 

In heavenly art, 
Not to be loved, but to love. 

— Maltbie D. Babcock. 



COMPANIONSHIP 

No distant Lord have I, 

Loving afar to be; 
Made flesh for me, he cannot rest 

Unless he rests in me. 

Brother in joy and pain. 
Bone of my bone was he, 

Now — intimacy closer still. 
He dwells himself in me. 

I need not journey far 

This dearest Friend to see; 

Companionship is always mine, 
He makes his home with me. 

I envy not the twelve. 

Nearer to me is he; 
The life he once lived here on earth 

He lives again in me. 

Ascended now to God, 

My witness there to be. 
His witness here am I, because 

His Spirit dwells in me. 

glorious Son of God, 
Incarnate Deity, 

1 shall forever be with thee 
Because thou art with me. 

— Maltbie D. Babcock. 



"WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT?" 

If I lay waste and wither up with doubt 
The blessed fields of heaven where once 

my faith 
Possessed itself serenely safe from 

death ; 
If I deny the things past finding out; 
Or if I orphan my own soul of One 
That seemed a Father, and make void 

the place 
Within me where He dwelt in power 

and grace, 
What do I gain that am myself undone ? 
— William Dean Howells. 



*The poems by the Rev. Maltbie D. Babcock on this and the following page are reprinted, by 
special permission, from "Thoughts for Every Day Living," copyright, 1901, by Charles Scribner's 
Sons. 

278 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 



279 



EMANCIPATION 

Why be afraid of Death as though your 

life were breath ! 
Death but anoints your eyes with clay. 

O glad surprise! 

Why should you be forlorn? Death 

only husks the corn. 
Why should you fear to meet the 

thresher of the wheat? 

Is sleep a thing to dread ? Yet sleeping, 

you are dead 
Till you awake and rise, here, or beyond 

the skies. 

Why should it be a wrench to leave 

your wooden bench. 
Why not with happy shout run home 

when school is out ? 

The dear ones left behind! O foolish 

one and blind. 
A day — and you will meet, — a night — 

and you will greet! 

This is the death of Death, to breathe 

away a breath 
And know the end of strife, and taste 

the deathless life. 

And joy without a fear, and smile 

without a tear. 
And work, nor care nor rest, and find 

the last the best. 

— Maltbie D. Babcock. 



SCHOOL DAYS 

Lord, let me make this rule : 
To think of life as school. 
And try my best 
To stand each test, 
And do my work 
And nothing shirk. 

Should some one else outshine 
This dullard head of mine, 

Should I be sad? 

I will be glad. 

To do my best 

Is thy behest. 

If weary with my book 
I cast a wistful look 

Where posies grow, 

Oh, let me know 

That flowers within 

Are best to win. 



Dost take my book away 
Anon to let me play, 

And let me out 

To run about? 

I grateftd bless 

Thee for recess. 

Then recess past, alack, 
I turn me slowly back, 

On my hard bench. 

My hands to clench. 

And set my heart 

To learn my part. 

These lessons thou dost give 
To teach me how to live, 

To do, to bear. 

To get and share. 

To work and pray 

And trust alway. 

What though I may not ask 
To choose my daily task, 

Thou hast decreed 

To meet my need. 

What pleases thee 

That shall please me. 

Some day the bell will sound. 
Some day my heart will bound. 

As with a shout, 

That school is out. 

And, lessons done, 

I homeward run. 

— Maltbie D. Babcock. 



CATHOLIC LOVE 
Weary of all this wordy strife. 

These notions, forms, and modes, and 

names, 

To Thee, the Way, the Truth, the Life, 

Whose love my simple heart inflames. 

Divinely taught, at last I fly. 

With Thee, and Thine, to live and die. 

Redeemed by Thine almighty grace, 

I taste my glorious liberty. 
With open arms the world embrace, 

But cleave to those who cleave to 
Thee; 
But only in thy saints delight. 
Who walk with God in purest white. 

My brethren, friends, and kinsmen these, 
Who do my heavenly Father's will; 

Who aim at perfect holiness. 
And all Thy counsels to fulfill, 

Athirst to be whate'er Thou art 

And love their God with all their heart. 
— Charles Wesley. 



2 8o 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 



WHAT MATTER 

What matter, friend, though you and I 

May sow and others gather? 
We build and others occupy, 

Each laboring for the other? 
What though we toil from sun to sun. 

And men forget to flatter 
The noblest wonc our hands have done — 

If God approves, what matter? 

What matter, though we sow in tears. 

And crops fail at the reaping? 
What though the fruit of patient years 

Fast perish in our keeping? 
Upon our hoarded treasures, floods 

Arise, and tempests scatter — 
If faith beholds, beyond the clouds, 

A clearer sky, what matter? 

What matter, though our castles fall. 

And disappear while building; 
Though "strange handwritings on the 
wall" 

Flame out amid the gilding? 
Though every idol of the heart 

The hand of death may shatter. 
Though hopes decay and friends depart. 

If heaven be ours, what matter? 

— H. W. Teller. 



JOHN WESLEY 

In those clear, piercing, piteous eyes 

behold 
The very soul that over England 

flamed ! 
Deep, pure, intense; consuming shame 

and ill; 
Convicting men of sin; making faith live; 
And, — this the mightiest miracle of all, — 
Creating God again in human hearts. 

What courage of the flesh and of the 

spirit ! 
How grim of wit, when wit alone might 

serve ! 
What wisdom his to know the boundless 

might 
Of banded effort in a world like ours ! 
How meek, how self -forgetful, cour- 
teous, calm! 
A silent figure when men idly raged 
In murderous anger; calm, too, in the 

storm , — 
Storm of the spirit, strangely imminent. 
When spiritual lightnings struck men 

down 
And brought, by violence, the sense of 

sin. 
And violently oped the gates of peace. 



O hear that voice, which rang from 
dawn to night. 

In church and ablDey whose most an- 
cient walls 

Not for a thousand years such accents 
knew! 

On windy hilltops; by the roaring sea; 

'Mid tombs, in market-places, prisons, 
fields ; 

'Mid clamor, vile attack, — or deep-awed 
hush, 

Wherein celestial visitants drew near 

And secret ministered to troubled soiils I 

Hear ye, O hear! that ceaseless-pleading 
voice. 

Which storm, nor suffering, nor age 
could still — 

Chief prophet voice through nigh a 
century's span! 

Now silvery as Zion's dove that mourns, 

Now quelling as the Archangel's judg- 
ment trump. 

And ever with a sound like that of old 

Which, in the desert, shook the wander- 
ing tribes. 

Or, round about storied Jerusalem, 

Or by Gennesaret, or Jordan, spake 

The words of life. 

Let not that image fade 
Ever, O God! from out the minds of 

men. 
Of him thy messenger and stainless 

priest. 
In a brute, sodden, and unfaithful time, 
Early and late, o'er land and sea, 

on-driven ; 
In youth, in eager manhood, age 

extreme, — 
Driven on forever, back and forth the 

world, 
By that divine, omnipotent desire — 
Tne hunger and the passion for men's 

souls! 

— Richard Watson Gilder. 



"WITH WHOM IS NO 
VARIABLENESS" 

It fortifies my soul to know 
That, though I perish. Truth is so: 
That, howsoe'er I stray and range, 
Whate'er I do, Thou dost not change. 
I steadier step when I recall 
That, if I slip, Thou dost not fall. 

— Arthur Hugh Clough. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 



281 



HER GLADNESS 

My darling went 

Unto the seaside long ago. Content 
I stayed at home, for O, I was so glad 
Of all the little outings that she had! 
I knew she needed rest. I loved to stay 
At home a while that she might go away. 
"How beautiful the sea! How she 

enjoys 
The music of the waves! No care 

annoys 
Her pleasures," thought I; "O, it is so 

good 
That she can rest a while. I wish she 

could 
Stay till the autumn leaves are turning 

red." 
"Stay longer, sister," all my letters 

said. 
"If you are growing stronger every day, 
I am so very glad to have you stay." 

My darling went 

To heaven long ago. Am I content 

To stay at home? Why can I not be 

glad 
Of all the glories that she there has had ? 
She needed change. Why am I loath 

to stay 
And do her work and let her go away? 
The land is lovely where her feet have 

been; 
Why do I not rejoice that she has seen 
Its beauties first? That she will show 

to me 
The City Beautiful? Is it so hard to be 
Happy that she is happy? Hard to 

know 
She learns so much each day that helps 

her so? 
Why can I not each night and morning 

say, 
"I am so glad that she is glad to-day?" 



"OUT OF REACH" 

You think them "out of reach," your 
dead? 

Nay, by my own dead, I deny 
Your "out of reach." — Be comforted; 

'Tis not so far to die. 

O by their dear remembered smiles. 
And outheld hands and welcoming 
speech. 
They wait for us, thousands of miles 
This side of "out of reach." 

— ^James Whitcomb Riley. 



SORROWFUL, YET REJOICING 

I lift my head and walk my ways 

Before the world without a tear, 
And bravely unto those I meet 

I smile a message of good cheer; 
I give my lips to laugh and song. 

And somehow get me through each 
day; 
But, oh, the tremble in my heart 

Since she has gone away! 

Her feet had known the stinging thorns, 

Her eyes the blistering tears; 
Bent were her shoulders with the weight 

And sorrow of the years; 
The lines were deep upon her brow, 

Her hair was thin and gray; 
And, oh, the tremble in my heart 

Since she has gone away! 

I am not sorry; I am glad; 

I would not have her here again; 
God gave her strength life's bitter cup 

Unto the bitterest dreg to drain; 
I will not have less strength than she, 

I proudly tread my stony way; 
But, oh, the tremble in my heart 

Since she has gone away! 



IN THE HOSPITAL 

I lay me down to sleep 

With little thought or care 

Whether my waking find 
Me here or there. 

A bowing, burdened head, 
That only asks to rest, 

Unquestioning, upon 
A loving breast. 

My good right hand forgets 

Its cunning now; 
To march the weary march 

I know not how. 

I am not eager, bold. 

Nor strong — all that is past; 
I'm ready not to do 

At last, at last. 

My half-day's work is done, 
And this is all my part; 

I give a patient God 
My patient heart, 

And grasp his banner still. 
Though all its blue be dim; 

These stripes, no less than stars. 
Lead after Him. 

— M. W. Howland. 



282 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 



FATHER OF MERCIES 

Father of mercies, thy children have 
wandered 
Far from thy bosom, their home; 
Most of their portion of goods they have 
squandered ; 
Farther and farther they roam. 

We are thy children, and we have 
departed 
To the lone country afar, 
We would arise, we come back broken- 
hearted ; 
Take us back just as we are. 

Not for the ring or the robe we entreat 
thee, 
Nor for high place at the feast; 
Only to see thee, to touch thee, to greet 
thee. 
Ranked with the last and the least. 

But for thy mercy we dare not accost 
thee, 
But for thy Son who has come 
Seeking his brothers who left thee and 
lost thee. 
Seeking to gather them home. 

Father of mercies, thy holiness awes us; 

Yet thou dost wait to receive! 
Jesus, the light of thy countenance 
charms us. 

Father of him, we believe. 

Back in the home of thy heart, may we 
labor 
Others to bring from the wild. 
Counting each creature that needs us 
our neighbor, 
Claiming each soul as thy child. 

— Robert F. Horton. 



ANGELS 



How shall we tell an angel 

From another guest? 
How, from common worldly herd. 

One of the blest? 

Hint of suppressed halo, 

Rustle of hidden wings, 
Wafture of heavenly frankincense — 

Which of these things? 

The old Sphinx smiles so subtly: 

"I give no golden rule — 
Yet would I warn thee. World : treat well 

Whom thou call'st fool." 

— Gertrude Hall. 



HIS PILGRIMAGE 

Give me my scallop-shell of quiet. 
My staff of faith to walk upon. 

My scrip of joy, immortal diet. 
My bottle of salvation. 

My gown of glory, hope's true gage; 

And thus I'll take my pilgrimage. 

Blood must be my body's balmer; 

No other balm will there be given; 
Whilst my soul, like quiet palmer, 

Traveleth toward the land of heaven; 
Over the silver mountains, 
Where spring the nectar fountains, 
There will I kiss 
The bowl of bliss, 
And drink mine everlasting fill 
Upon every milken hill. 
My soul will be a-dry before; 
But after, it will thirst no more. 

Then by that happy, blissful day. 

More peaceftil pilgrims I shall see. 
That have cast o£E their rags of clay, 
And walk appareled fresh like me. 
I'll take them first 
To quench their thirst 
And taste of nectar suckets. 
At those clear wells 
Where sweetness dwells, 
Drawn up by saints in crystal buckets. 
—Sir Walter Raleigh. 



OUR WORDS 



O Sentinel at the loose-swung door of 

my impetuous lips. 
Guard close to-day! Make sure no 

word unjust or cruel slips 
In anger forth, by folly spurred or 

armed with envy's whips; 
Keep clear the way to-day. 

And Watchman on the clifif-scarred 

heights that lead from heart to 

mind. 
When wolf-thoughts clothed in guile's 

soft fleece creep up, O be not blind! 
But may they pass whose foreheads 

bear the glowing seal- word, "kind"; 
Bid them Godspeed, I pray. 

And Warden of my soul's stained house, 
where love and hate are born, 

O make it clean, if swept must be with 
pain's rough broom of thorn! 

And quiet impose, so straining ears with 
world-din racked and torn. 

May catch what God doth say. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 



283 



A GOOD MAN 

A good man never dies — 

In worthy deed and prayer, 
And helpftil hands, and honest eyes. 

If smiles or tears be there; 
Who lives for you and me — 

Lives for the world he tries 
To help — he lives eternally. 

A good man never dies. 

Who lives to bravely take 

His share of toil and stress, 
And, for his weaker fellows' sake 

Makes every burden less — 
He may, at last, seem worn — 

Lie fallen — hands and eyes 
Folded — yet, though we mourn and 
mourn, 

A good man never dies. 

— ^James Whitcomb Riley. 



THE IMMANENT GOD 
Each in His Own Tongue 
A fire-mist and a planet, 

A crystal and a cell, 
A jellyfish and a saurian, 

And caves where the cavemen dwell; 
Then a sense of law and beauty, 

And a face turned from the clod — 
Some call it Evolution 

And others call it God. 

A haze on the far horizon, 

The infinite, tender sky, 
The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields. 

And the wild geese sailing high — 
And all over upland and lowland 

The charm of the golden rod — 
Some of us call it Autumn, 

And others call it God. 

Like tides on a crescent sea beach. 

When the moon is new and thin. 
Into our hearts high yearnings 

Come welling and surging in — 
Come from the mystic ocean. 

Whose rim no foot has trod — 
Some of us call it Longing, 

And others call it God. 

A picket frozen on duty — 

A mother starved for her brood — 
Socrates drinking the hemlock. 

And Jesus on the rood; 
And millions who, humble and nameless. 

The straight, hard pathway trod — 
Some call it Consecration, 

And others call it God. 

— William Herbert Carruth. 



THE HIGHER FELLOWSHIP 

Do you go to my school? 
Yes, you go to my school. 
And we've learned the big lesson — Be 
strong ! 
And to front the loud noise 
With a spirit of poise. 
And drown down the noise with a song. 
We have spelled the first line in the 
Primer of Fate ; 
We have spelled it, and dare not to 
shirk — 
For its first and its greatest command- 
ment to men 
Is "Work, and rejoice in your work." 
Who is learned in this Primer will not 

be a fool — 
You are one of my classmates. You go 
to my school. 

You belong to my club? 
Yes, you're one of my club. 
And this is our program and plan: 
To each do his part 
To look into the heart 
And get at the good that's in man. 
Detectives of virtue and spies of the 
good 
And sleuth-hounds of righteousness 
we. 
Look out there, my brother! we're hot 
on your trail. 
We'll find out how good you can be. 
We would drive from our hearts the 

snake, tiger, and cub; 
We're the Lodge of the Lovers. You're 
one of my club. 

You belong to my church? 
Yes, you go to my church — 
Our names on the same old church roll — 
The tide-waves of God 
We believe are abroad 
And flow into the creeks of each soul. 
And the vessel we sail on is strong as 
the sea 
That buffets and blows it about; 
For the sea is God's sea as the ship is 
God's ship. 
So we know not the meaning of doubt ; 
And we know howsoever the vessel may 

lurch 
We've a Pilot to trust in. You go to 
my church. 

— Sam Walter Foss. 



Never elated while one man's oppressed; 
Never dejected while another's blessed. 
— Alexander Pope. 



284 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 



THE OTHER FELLOW'S JOB 

There's a craze among us mortals that 

is cruel hard to name; 
Wheresoe'er you find a human you will 

find the case the same; 
You may seek among the worst of men 

or seek among the best, 
And you'll find that every person is 

precisely like the rest: 
Each believes his real calling is along 

some other line 
Than the one at which he's working — 

take, for instance, yours and mine. 
From the meanest "me-too" creature to 

the leader of the mob, 
There's a universal craving for "the 

other fellow's job." 

There are millions of positions in the 

busy world to-day. 
Each a drudge to him who holds it, but 

to him who doesn't, play; 
Evey farmer's broken-hearted that in 

youth he missed his call. 
While that same unhappy farmer is the 

envy of us all. 
Any task you care to mention seems a 

vastly better lot 
Than the one especial something which 

you happen to have got. 
There's but one sure way to smother 

Envy's heartache and her sob: 
Keep too busy at your own to want 

"the other fellow's job." 

—Strickland W. GiUiland. 



THE SCORN OF JOB 

"If I have eaten my morsel alone," 

The patriarch spoke in scorn. 
What would he think of the Church were 
he shown 
Heathendom — huge, forlorn. 
Godless, Christless, with soiil unfed, 
While the Church's ailment is fullness 
of bread. 
Eating her morsel alone? 

"Freely as ye have received, so give," 

He bade who hath given us all. 
How shall the sotil in us longer live 

Deaf to their starving call. 
For whom the blood of the Lord was 

shed. 
And his body broken to give them 
bread, 
If we eat our morsel alone? 

— Archbishop Alexander. 



GREATNESS 

What makes a man great ? Is it houses 

and lands? 
Is it argosies dropping their wealth at 

his feet? 
Is it multitudes shouting his name in 

the street? 
Is it power of brain ? Is it skill of hand ? 
Is it writing a book? Is it guiding the 

State ? 
Nay, nay, none of these can make a 

man great. 

The crystal burns cold with its beautiful 
fire, 
And is what it is; it can never be 

more; 
The acorn, with something wrapped 
warm at the core. 

In quietness says, "To the oak I aspire." 

That something in seed and in tree is 
the same — 

What makes a man great is his great- 
ness of aim. 

What is greatness of aim? Your pur- 
pose to trim 
For bringing the world to obey yotu- 

behest? 
O no, it is seeking God's perfect and 
best. 

Making something the same both in 
you and in him. 

Love what he loves, and, child of the 
sod, 

Already you share in the greatness of 
God. —Samuel V. Cole. 



A SAFE FIRM 

When the other firms show dizziness 

Here's a house that does not share it. 
Wouldn't you like to join the business? 

Join the firm of Gnn and Barrett? 
Give your strength that does not 
murmur. 
And your nerve that does not falter, 
And you've joined a house that's firmer 

Than the old rock of Gibraltar. 
They have won a good prosperity; 

Why not join the firm and share it? 
Step, young fellow, with celerity; 
Join the firm of Grin and Barrett. 
Grin and Barrett, 
Who can scare it? 
Scare the firm of Grin and Barrett? 
— Sam Walter Foss. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 



285 



JOHN MILTON 

Milton! thou shotildst be living at this 
hour: 
England hath need of thee: she is a 

fen 
Of stagnant waters: altars, sword, and 
pen, 
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and 

bower, 
Have forfeited their ancient English 
dower 
Of inward happiness. We are selfish 

men. 
O! raise us up, return to us again; 
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, 
power. 
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt 
apart: 
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was 

like the sea: 
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, 

free. 
So didst thou travel on life's common 
way. 
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy 
heart 
The lowliest duties on herself did lay. 
— William Wordsworth. 



SUMMUM BONUM 

For radiant health I praise not when I 

pray, 
Nor for routine of toil well-pleasing 

every way. 
Though these gifts, Lord, more priceless 

grow each day. 

Not for congenial comrades, garnered 

store 
Of worldly wealth, nor vision that sees 

o'er 
Such sordid mass, mind's plumed eagles 

soar. 

Not even. Lord, for love that eases 

stress 
Of storm, contention, hope's uncon- 

querableness. 
Nor faith's abiding peace, nor works 

that bless. 

But this, dear Lord, stir inner depths 

divine. 
That day by day, though slowly! line 

on line 
My will begins — ^begins — to merge in 

thine. —Charles L. Story. 



THE AIM 

Thou who lovest not alone 

The swift success, the instant goal. 
But hast a lenient eye to mark 
The failures of the inconstant soul, 

Consider not my little worth — 

The mean achievement, scamped in 
act — 
The high resolve and low result. 

The dream that diirst not face the 
fact. 

But count the reach of my desire — 
Let this be something in thy sight; 

1 have not, in the slothful dark. 
Forgot the vision and the height. 

Neither my body nor my soul 

To earth's low ease will yield consent. 

I praise thee for the will to strive; 
I bless thy goad and discontent. 

— Charles G. D. Roberts. 



SAY SOMETHING GOOD 

When over the fair fame of friend or 
foe 
The shadow of disgrace shall fall, 
instead 
Of words of blame or proof of thus and 
so, 
Let something good be said! 

Forget not that no fellow-being yet 
May fall so low but love may lift his 
head; 
Even the cheek of shame with tears is 
wet, 
If something good be said. 

No generous heart may vainly turn 
aside 
In ways of sympathy; no soul so 
dead 
But may awaken, strong and glori- 
fied. 
If something good be said. 

And so I charge ye, by the thorny 
crown. 
And by the cross on which the 
Saviour bled, 
And by your own soul's hope of fair 
renown, 
Let something good be said! 

— James Whitcomb Riley. 



286 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 



WHEN TO BE HAPPY 

Why do we cling to the skirts of sorrow ? 

Why do we cloud with care the brow ? 
Why do we wait for a glad to-morrow — 

Why not gladden the precious Now? 
Eden is yours! Woiild you dwell within 
it? 

Change men's grief to a gracious 
smile, 
And thus have heaven here this minute 

And not far-off in the afterwhile. 

Life, at most, is a fleeting bubble. 

Gone with the puff of an angel's 
breath. 
Why should the dim hereafter trouble 

Souls this side of the gates of death? 
The crown is yours! Would you care 
to win it? 

Plant a song in the hearts that sigh. 
And thus have heaven here this minute 

And not far-off in the by-and-by. 

Find the soul's high place of beauty. 

Not in a man-made book of creeds, 
But where desire ennobles duty 

And life is full of your kindly deeds. 
The bliss is yours! Would you fain 
begin it? 

Pave with love each golden mile. 
And thus have heaven here this minute 

And not far-off in the afterwhile. 
— Nixon Waterman. 



Love thyself last: cherish those hearts 

that hate thee; 
Corruption wins not more than honesty. 
Still in thy right hand carry gentle 

peace, 
To silence envious tongues. Be just, 

and fear not: 
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy 

country's, 
Thy God's, and truth's. 

— William Shakespeare. 



Sweet are the uses of adversity; 

Which, like the toad, ugly and ven- 
omous. 

Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; 

And this ovir life, exempt from public 
haunt. 

Finds tongues in trees, books in the 
running brooks. 

Sermons in stones, and good in every- 
thing. 

— ^William Shakespeare. 



WORSHIP 

But let my due feet never fail 

To walk the studious cloister's pale, 

And love the high embowed roof 

With antique pillars massy proof, 

And storied windows richly dight, 

Casting a dim religious light. 

There let the pealing organ blow, 

To the full-voiced choir below, 

In service high, and anthems clear. 

As may with sweetness, through mine 

ear, 
Dissolve me into ecstasies. 
And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. 
— ^John Milton. 



Give us men! 

Strong and stalwart ones : 
Men whom highest hope inspires, 
Men whom purest honor fires. 
Men who trample Self beneath them. 
Men who make their country wreathe 
them 

As her noble sons. 

Worthy of their sires. 
Men who never shame their mothers, 
Men who never fail their brothers; 
True, however false are others: 

Give us Men — I say again. 

Give us Men! 
^ — Bishop of Exeter. 



I will not doubt though all my ships at 
sea 
Come drifting home with broken 

masts and sails, 
I will believe the Hand which never 
fails, 
From seeming evil worketh good for 

me; 
And though I weep because those sails 

are tattered. 
Still will I cry, while my best hopes lie 
shattered, 

"I trust in Thee." 



The wounds I might have healed. 
The human sorrow and smart! 

And yet it never was in my soul 
To play so ill a part. 

But evil is wrought by want of thought 
As well as want of heart. 

— Thomas Hood. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 



287 



DON'T FEAR— GOD'S NEAR! 

Feel gltun? Keep mum. 
Don't grumble. Be himible. 
Trials cling? Just sing. 
Can't sing? Just cling. 
Don't fear — God's near! 
Money goes — He knows. 
Honor left — Not bereft. 
Don't rust — Work! Trust! 

— Ernest Boumer Allen. 



A rose to the living is more 

Than sumptuous wreaths to the dead ; 
In filling love's infinite store, 
A rose to the living is more, 
If graciously given before 

The hungering spirit is fled — 
A rose to the living is more 

Than sumptuous wreaths to the dead. 
— Nixon Waterman. 



Canst thou see no beauty nigh? 
Cure thy dull, distempered eye. 
Canst thou no sweet music hear? 
Tune thy sad, discordant ear. 
Earth has beauty everywhere 
If the eye that sees is fair. 
Earth has music to delight 
If the ear is tuned aright. 

— Nixon Waterman. 



Anew we pledge ourselves to Thee, 
To follow where thy Truth shall lead ; 

Afloat upon its boundless sea, 

Who sails with God is safe indeed. 



O, though oft depressed and lonely 
All my fears are laid aside. 

If I but remember only 

Such as these have lived and died. 



It was only a glad "Good morning," 
As she passed along the way; 

But it spread the morning's glory 
Over the livelong day. 



For the right against the wrong, 
For the weak against the strong. 
For the poor who've waited long. 
For the brighter age to be. 



RECOMPENSE 

The gifts that to our breasts we fold 

Are brightened by our losses. 
The sweetest joys a heart can hold 

Grow up between its crosses. 
And on life's pathway many a mile 

Is made more glad and cheery, 
Because, for just a little while. 

The way seemed dark and dreary, 
— Nixon Waterman. 



Wherever now a sorrow stands, 

'Tis mine to heal His nail-torn hands. 

In every lonely lane and street, 

'Tis mine to wash His wounded feet — 

'Tis mine to roll away the stone 

And warm His heart against my own. 

Here, here on earth I find it all — 

The young archangels, white and tall. 

The Golden City and the doors. 

And all the shining of the floors! 



I sent my soul through the Invisible, 
Some letter of that After-life to spell; 
And by and by my soul returned to me. 
And answered, "I myself am Heaven 
and Hell." 

— Omar Khayyam. 



Count that day really worse than lost 

You might have made divine. 
Through which you scattered lots of 
frost 
And ne'er a speck of shine. 

— Nixon Waterman. 



O, the little birds sang east, and the 

little birds sang west. 
And I smiled to think God's greatness 
flowed around our incompleteness. 
Round our restlessness. His rest. 
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



If by one word I help another, 

A struggling and despairing brother. 

Or ease one bed of pain; 
If I but aid some sad one weeping, 
Or comfort one, lone vigil keeping, 

I have not lived in vain. 



INDEX TO AUTHORS 



Adams, Sarah F., 214. 

Addison, Joseph, 251, 266. 

^schylus, 94. 

Akers, EHzabeth, 10 1. 

Albert of Brandenburg, 216. 

Alcott, L. M., 25. 

Aldrich, Anne R., 155. 

Aldrich, Thomas B., 146. 

Alexander, Archbishop, 284. 

Alexander, Cecil Frances, 36, 249. 

Alford, Henry, 17, 187. 

Alger, William R., 114, 130, 207, 227. 

Allen, Ernest B., 287. 

Allen, Freda H., 92. 

Ames, Charles G., 121, 276. 

Anstice, Joseph, 195. 

Arabic, from the, 112, 130, 157, 218, 218. 

Archilochos, 92. 

Arnold, Edwin, 30, 34, 47, 112, 177, 183, 

232, 266. 
Arnold, Matthew, i, 7, 12, 93, 234, 266 
Atkinson, Mary E., 125. 
Austin, Alfred, 112, 253. 

Babcock, Maltbie D., 278, 278, 278, 279, 279. 

Bailey, Philip J., 186, 264. 

Baillie, Joanna, 17. 

Baker, Henry W., 247. 

Banks, George L., 250. 

Barbauld, Anna L., 276. 

Barker, Noah, 33. 

Barr, Lillian E., 210. 

Barry, Michael J., 12. 

Bathurst, William H., 180. 

Baxter, Richard, 79, 87, 106. 

Beattie, James, 99. 

Beatty, Pakenham, 22. 

Bernard of Clairvaux, 235, 236. 

Bethune, George W., 272. 

Bickersteth, Edward H., 90. 

Blake, William, 263. 

Bliss, Philip Paul, 120. 

Bode, John E., 247. 

Bolton, Sarah K., i, 35, 37, 48, 63, 73. 77, 

105, III, 178, 199, 256. 
Bonar, Horatius, 26, 43, 83, 90, 91, 93, loi, 

151. 153. 254. 260. 
Borthwick, J., 212. 
Bradley, Helen, 242. 
Brainard, Mary G., 192. 
Bridges, Madeline S., 257. 
Bridges, Robert, 100. 
Bronte, Emily, 21, 23. 
Brooke, Stopford A., 261. 
Brooks, Charles T., 60, 142. 
Brooks, Phillips, 137. 
Brown, Brownlee, 271. 
Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 64, 65, 93, 114, 

127, 158, 161, 231, 262, 269, 287. 
Browning, Frederick G., 124, 213. 



Browning, Robert, 3, 16, 21, 21, 25, 31, 33, 
34, 39, 40, 40, 40, 40, 40, 64, 120, 148, 162, 
176, 182, 183, 208, 208, 214, 232, 264, 264, 
266, 268, 268, 269, 270. 

Bryant, William C, 14, 76, 265. 

Buckham, James, 54, 87. 

Bunyan, John, 96. 

Burgess, Frank G., 181. 

Burleigh, George S., 127. 

Burleigh, William H., 196. 

Bums, James D., 228. 

Bums, Robert, 24, 68, 102, 263. 

Burr, William N., 60. 

Burroughs, John, 171. 

Burton, Henry, 84, 171, 221, 238. 

Burton, John, 126. 

Butler, Mary, 117. 

Butts, Mary F., 198. 

Byrd, William, 104. 

Byrom, John, 106. 

Byron, George Gordon, i, 38, 122. 

Carlyle, Thomas, 255. 

Carruth, William H., 283. 

Cary, Alice, 38, 146. 

Caswall, Edward, 87, 235. 

Chadwick, John W., 210, 275. 

Charles, Elizabeth R., 72, 172. 

Cheney, John Vance, 27, iii, 113, 113, 274, 

276. 
Clark, Luella, 125. 
Clarke, James Freeman, 38, 69, 73, 130, 203, 

218, 220, 263. 
Clough, Arthur Hugh, 172, 280. 
Cole, Samuel V., 284. 
Coleridge, Hartley, 124, 184. 
Coleridge, Samuel T., 33, 130. 
Colesworthy, D. C, 8, 19. 
Conder, Josiah, 112. 
Cook, Eliza, 102, 253. 
Cook, Mary Ann W., no, 183. 
Cooke, Edmund Vance, 5. 
Cooke, Rose Terry, 52. 

Coolidge, Susan, 47, 131, 174, 214, 229, 263. 
Coppee, Francois, 43. 
Comeille, Pierre, 121. 
Cotton, 198. 
Cousin, Annie R., 274. 
Cowper, William, 98, 108, 126, 159, 193, 203, 

223, 266. 
Coxe, Arthur Cleveland, 18, 239. 
Coyle, Henry, 34, 144. 
Craik, Dinah M. M., 13, 48, 142, 165, 273, 

273- 
Cranch, Christopher P., 25, 85, 256, 265. 
Crashaw, Richard, 133. 
Crewdson, Jane, 140. 
Crosby, Ernest, 2. 
Custis, Gertrude B., 196. 
Cutler, William, 45. 



288 



INDEX TO AUTHORS 



289 



Dandridge, Danske, 277. 
Daniel, Samuel, 13. 
Davies, John, 139. 
Davies, William, 262. 
Davis, Thomas, 260. 
Deems, Charles F., 188, 194. 
Denny, Edward, 241. 
Dessler, Wolfgang C, 237. 
De Vere, Aubrey T., 159. 
Dewart, Edward H., 12, 42. 
Dickenga, I. E., 259. 
Dickinson, Mary Lowe, 186, 254. 
Doddridge, Philip, 205, 249, 261. 
Dorr, Julia C. R., 54, 98. 
Duffield, Samuel W., 128. 
Dryden, John, 262, 266. 
D wight, John S., 92. 
Dyer, Edward, 104. 

Egerton, J. A., 77. 

Eliot, George, 51. 

Elliott, Charlotte, 124, 207, 213. 

Elliott, Ebenezer, 75. 

Elwood, Thomas, 118. 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 3, 6, 7, 11, 13, 20, 

27, 32, 49, 106, 220, 263. 
Exeter, Bishop of, 286. 

Faber, F. W., 69, loi, 119, 119, 128, 141, 
155, 165, 171, 181, 186, 207, 209, 223, 224, 
225, 231, 234, 237, 242. 

Famingham, Marianne, 6. 

Farrar, F. W., 167. 

Fawcett, Edgar, 8. 

Felkin, Ellen T. F., 148. 

Fleming, Paul, 88, 198. 

Fletcher, Julia A., 69. 

Ford, C. L., 240. 

Foss, Sam Walter, 66, 95, 283, 284. 

Freckleton, Thomas W., 61. 

Fuller, B. A. G., 171. 

Gammons, Susan E., 256. 

Gannett, William C, 229, 266. 

Gaskell, Eliza C, 190, 195. 

Gay, John, 40. 

Gedicke, L., 201. 

Gellert, Christian F., 194. 

Gerhardt, Paul, 172, 193, 215, 220. 

German, from the, 104, 160, 218, 249. 

Gibbs, Sarah A., 45. 

Gilder, R. W., 18, 26, 26, 33, 141, 156, 168, 

244, 263, 280. 
Gilliland, Strickland W., 284. 
Gilmore, James Roberts, 261. 
Gladden, Washington, 131. 
Goethe, JohannW. von, 45, 76, 115, 208, 250, 

255- 
Goode, J. B., 161. 
Goode, Kate T., 34. 
Grannis, G. M., 60. 
Gray, George Z., no. 
Greek, from the, 92, 94, 129, 263. 
Green, Frances L., 9. 
Greg, Samuel, 181. 
Grosart, Alexander B., 118. 
Guyon, Madame, 82, 82, 87, 104, 131, 186. 



Hafiz, 65. 

Hagenbach, Charles R., 187. 

Hale, E. E., 176, 

Hall, Gertrude, 282. 

Hamilton, 102. 

Hamilton, Anna E., 185, 246. 

Harding, Edward, 196. 

Harte, Francis Bret, 211. 

Hatch, Edwin, 121. 

Havergal, Frances R., 81, 82, 85, 90, 109, 

138, i53> 204, 215. 
Hawes, Annie M. L., 37. 
Hawks, Annie S., 224. 
Hay, John, 23, 25, 47, 217. 
Hay, William, 92. 
Heber, Reginald, 5. 
Hebrew, from the, 277. 
Hedge, Frederick H., 16. 
Henley, William Ernest, 23. 
Herbert, George, 21, 64, 94, 97, in, 203, 

219, 223, 227, 228, 241, 242. 
Herder, Johann G. von, 203. 
Herford, Oliver, 262. 
Herrick, Robert, 98, 186. 
Higginson, Thomas W., 107. 
Hill, Aaron, 21. 
Hodgkins, Louise M., 80, 179. 
Holland, J. G., 22, 115, 162. 
Holm, Saxe, 97. 

Holmes, Oliver W., 20, 116, 168, 221, 268. 
Homer, 129. 
Hood, Thomas, 286. 
Hooper, Ellen S., 49, 
Horace, 262. 
Horton, Robert F., 282. 

Hosmer, Frederick L., 44, 157, 207, 226, 231. 
Hovey, Richard, 148. 
Howe, Martha P., 70. 
Howells, W. D., 140, 278. 
Howland, M. W., 281. 
Huckel, Oliver, 144. 
Hughes, Thomas, 81. 
Hugo, Victor, 176, 198. 

Ingalls, John J., 261. 
Ingelow, Jean, 37, 39, 187. 

Jackson, Helen Hunt, 95, 163, 
Japanese, from the, 155. 
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 134, 266. 
Johnson, Samuel, 97, 149. 
Judson, Adoniram, 18. 

Keble, John, 26, 67, 113, 180, 231, 232. 
Kemble, Frances Anne, 198. 
Ken, Thomas, 102. 
Key, Francis Scott, 247. 
Kha5ryam, Omar, 253, 287. 
Kimball, Harriet McEwen, 163, 231. 
Kingsley, Charles, 30. 
Kinney, L., 269. 
Kipling, Rudyard, 39, 96. 
Kiser, Samuel E., 140. 

Knowles, Frederic Lawrence, 18, 117, 166, 
197, 222, 274, 275. 

Langbridge, F., 86. 
Lansdowne, Henry P. F., 103. 
Larcom, Lucy, 74, 161. 



290 



INDEX TO AUTHORS 



Latin, from the, 262, 266. 

Legge, Arthur E. J., 30. 

Leighton, Robert, 48, 232. 

Littlewood, W. E., 235. 

Lloyd, William P., 189. 

Logau, Friedrich von, 81. 

Longfellow, Henry W., 2, 12, 27, 27, 35, 39, 
39, 42, 47, 76, 77, 93, 102, 114, 114, 132, 
141, 149, 162, 164, 169, 213, 218, 220, 251, 
266, 274. 

Longfellow, Samuel, 167, 178. 

Longstaff, W. D., 136. 

Lovelace, Richard, 24. 

Lowell, James R., 4, 13, 17, 18, 21, 21, 26, 
27. 35. 35. 38, 39. 40, 40, 48, 49. 62, 65, 
65, 93, 107, 119, 161, 161, i6r, 165, 167, 
171, 186, 208, 220, 231. 

Loyola, Ignatius, 87. 

Luff, William, 180. 

Luther, Martin, 6, 16. 

Lynch, Thomas T., 158. 

Lyon, Ernest N., 31. 

Lyra Catholica, 95. 

Lyte, Henry F., 83, 190, 192. 

Lytton, Edward Bulwer, 27, 28, 234. 

Macdonald, George, 58, 63, 99, 107, 117, 

125, 159, 199, 211, 219, 219, 220, 220, 

230, 230, 253. 
Mackay, Charles, 7, 24, 51, 74, 78, 109, 212, 

267. 
MacLaughlin, Bessie Pegg, 218. 
Macleod, Norman, 18. 
Malan, A. H. C, 272. 
Malone, Walter, 259. 
March, Daniel, 61. 
Markham, Edwin, 39. 
Martin, Edward S., 11, 70, 168. 
Marvin, Frederic Rowland, 65, 68, 87, 94, 94, 

129, 15s, 169, 169, 186, 208, 220, 274, 277, 

279. 
Mason, Caroline Atherton, 50, 53, 80, 108, 

159, 219, 226. 
Mason, Mary J., 86. 
Massey, Gerald, 48, 153, 166, 170. 
Matheson, George, 234. 
Maxfield, J. J., 179. 
Mayer, R. F., 194. 
McCreery, J. C, 270. 
Meredith, George, 65. 
Messenger, John A., 6. 
Metastasio, Pietro, 114. 
Miller, Joaquin, 5, 13. 
Milman, Constance, 137. 
Milnes, Moncton, 218. 
Milton, John, 175, 259, 286. 
Monod, Theodore, 85, 118. 
Monsell, John S. B., 159, 244. 
Montgomery, James, 127, 134, 262. 
Moore, Thomas, 86, 100, 118, 155. 
More, Hannah, 137. 
Morris, Lewis, 21. 
Morse, Sydney H., 12. 
Moulton, Louise C, 134 271. 
Mudge, James, 144, 206, 208, 209, 224, 228, 

232, 249, 258, 270. 
Muleykeh, 72. 
Mulholland, Rosa, 120. 
Murray, Charlotte, 183. 



Neumarck, George, 189. 

Newell, William, 143. 

Newman, John H., 15, 64, 86, 100, 181. 

Newton, John, 91, 151, 184, 185, 235, 249 

Noble, L. Gray, 55. 

Norris, Alfred, 98. 

North, Frank Mason, 76, 248. 

Novalis, 238. 

Oberlin, Jean F., 82. 

Offord, Robert M., 71, 121. 

O'Reilly, John Boyle, 21, 37, 40, 44, 78, 78, 

92, 122, 132, 163, 265. 
Osgood, Frances S., 65. 
Ovid, 266. 

Palfrey, Sara H., 78. 

Palmer, Ray, 236, 245. 

Parker, John, 208. 

Peabody, Josephine P., 176. 

Pearce, 158. 

Persian, from the, 27, 34, 38, 40, 40, 65, 72, 

73. 94. 94. 99. 109. 114. 122, 130, 142, 147, 

166, 207, 220, 227, 231, 232, 253, 263, 266, 

266, 266, 266, 267, 277. 
Pigott, Jean Sophia, 210. 
Pomfret, John, 162. 
Pope, Alexander, 32, 36, 39, 40, 73, 123, 225, 

283. 
Pratt, Agnes L., 161. 
Preston, Margaret J., 248, 271. 
Procter, Adelaide Anne, 29, 32, 39, 68, 140, 

156, 192. 
Proctor, Edna Dean, 11. 

Quarles, Francis, 17, 65, 85, 137, 159. 

Raleigh, Sir Walter, 282. 

Ray, Maude L., 51. 

Reese, Lizette W., 13. 

Richardson, Charles F., 125, 163. 

Riley, James W., 38, 102, 105, 167, 216, 264, 

281, 283, 285. 
Roberts, Charles G. D., 232, 285. 
Robertson, William, 174. 
Robinson, Annie D., 103. 
Rodigast, S., 188. 
Rogers, Samuel, 162. 
Romanes, George J., 265. 
Rossetti, Christina G., 39, 272. 
Riickert, Friedrich, 148. 
Russell, W. D., 122. 
Ryan, Abram J., 32, 35, 133. 
Ryland, John, 195. 

Saadi, 73, 94, 220. 

Salmon, Arthur L., 61. 

Sangster, Margaret E., iii, 143, 145, 229, 

251- 
Sanskrit, from the, 47, 94, 177, 183. 
Savage, Minot J., 10. 
Scandinavian, from the, 68, 20S. 
SchaufHer, Robert H., 198. 
Scheffler, Johann A., 87, 87, 169, 169, 186, 

222, 274. 
Schiller, Johann C. F., 27, 29, 175, 263. 
Schmolke, Benjamin, 153, 212. 
Schoener, S. C, 178. 
Scudder, Eliza, 92, 164. 
Seabury, J. D., 16. 



INDEX TO AUTHORS 



291 



Shairp, John C, 134. 

Shakespeare, William, 27, 38, 39, 49, 94, 186, 

206, 265, 286, 286. 
Shekelnot, Mary, 239. 
Sheridan, Richard B., 76. 
Sherman, Frank D., 229. 
Shipton, Anna, 252. 
Shorey, L., 237. 
Silesius, Angelus, 277. 

Sill, Edward R., 2, 15, 127, 258, 261, 267, 272. 
Simpson, Jane C., 135. 
Smiley, Maurice, 264. 
Smith, Alexander, 39. 
Smith, Belle Eugenia, 67. 
Smith, Elizabeth Oakes, 75. 
Smith, Henry B., 117. 
Smith, Mrs. Henry B., 62. 
Smith, Horace, 254. 
Smith, Lanta Wilson, 141. 
Smith, May Louise Riley, 191. 
Southwell, Robert, 105. 
Spanish, from the, 114. 
Spitta, Carl J. P., 190. 
Stanton, Frank L., 171. 
Stedman, Edmund C, 218. 
Sterling, John, 65, 94, 151, 158, 259, 264, 

265, 265. 

Stetson, Charlotte Perkins, 9, 25. 
Stevenson, Robert Louis, 151. 
Stoddard, Richard H., 150. 
Story, Charles L., 285. 
Story, William M., 31. 
Stowe, Harriet B., 88, 223. 
Sturm, Julius, 157. 
Swain, Charles, 175. 

Taylor, George L., 19. 
Taylor, Henry, 7. 
Teller, H. W., 280. 

Tennyson, Alfred, 11, 27, 27, 31, 32, 39, 40, 
40,46, 102, 122, 130, 135, 141, 152, 162, 162, 

168, 169, 172, 180, 186, 186, 23X, 232, 232, 

266, 274. 
Teresa, St., 114. 
Thackeray, William M., 39. 
Thaxter, Celia, 15. 
Tholuck, Friedrich A. G., 218. 
Thoreau, Henry D., 120. 
Torrey, Bradford, 185. 
Townsend, Mary E., 86. 

Trench, Richard C, 46, 65, 94, 95, 102, 108, 
113, 128, 129, 137, 137, 162, 164, 166, 167, 

169, 169. 

Troup, Josephine, 53. 



Tubbs, Arthur L., 133. 
Tucker, Mary F., 78. 
Tupper, Martin F., 181. 

Urchard, T., 112. 

Van Dyke, Henry, 53, 76, 263. 
Van Vliet, Alice, 30. 
Very, Jones, 99, 226. 

Wallace, James C, 129. 

Ward, Elizabeth S. P., 276. 

Waring, Anna L., 89, 90, 103, 116, 150, 151, 
169, 177, 217. 

Warner, Anna B., 8r, 243. 

Wasson, David A., 72. 

Waterman, Nixon, 46, 69, 78, 114, 140, 148, 
259, 261, 261, 264, 286,287, 287, 287, 287. 

Watson, Jean H., 132. 

Watson, William, 39, 129. 

Weldon, Charles, 33. 

Wells, Amos R., 79, 120, 121, 221, 252, 253, 
258. 

Welsh, from the, 137. 

Wesley, Charles, 37, 80, 81, 118, 121, 147, 
161, 189, 232, 279. 

Wesley, John, 87, 164. 

Wetherald, Agnes E., 53. 

White, H. Kirke, 211. 

White, James W., 129. 

White, John, 145. 

Whitney, A. D. T., 204. 

Whittier, John G., i, 20, 33, 58, 64, 67, 68, 
70, 78, 78, 88, 93, 97, 102, 102, 122, 141, 
157, 161, 173, 174, 174, 17s, 176, 177, 183, 
185, 189, 191, 192, 196, 197, 197, 208, 208, 
216, 232, 233, 264, 268, 271, 275. 

Whittle, D. W., 206. 

Wilberforce, Ernest R., 255. 

Williams, Alice, 217. 

Williams, Isaac, 193. 

Williams, Sarah J., 230. 

Williams, Theodore C, 71- 

Wilton, R., 135. 

Wither, George, 99. 

Wolcott, Julia A., 57. 

Wordsworth, William, 3, 41, 65, 65, 102, 268, 
277, 285. 

Wotton, Henry, 22. 

Xavier, Francis, 240. 

Yates, John H., 184. 

Young, Edward, 40, 44, 147, 232, 255, 263. 

Zinzendorf, Nicolaus L., 122. 



INDEX TO TITLES 



Abiding, oo. 

Above All, The Shield, 178. 

According to Thy Will, 214. 

Acquiescence of Pure Love, The, 87. 

Adoration, 131. 

After All, 145. 

Afterward, 276. 

Allah's House, 229. 

All for Jesus, 238. 

All for the Best, 189. 

All is Well, 196. 

All is Yours, 194. 

All Things in Jesus, 248. 

All Things Work Good, 196. 

All's for the Best, 181. 

All's Well, 71. 

Along the Way, 52. 

Altered Motto, The, ii8. 

Although — Yet, 147. 

Amen, 213. 

Angels of Grief, 156. 

Answer to Prayer, 137. 

Anywhere with Jesus, 246. 

Approaches, 219. 

As a Bird in Meadows, 147. 

As God Will, 217. 

As He Wills, 214. 

As it Was to Be, 211, 

As Thou Wilt, 2 1 2. 

At End, 271. 

Athanasia, 276. 

At Last, 270. 

At Sunset, 251. 

Battlefield, The, 14. 

Battles, 13. 

Be All at Rest, 91. 

Be Always Giving, 56. 

Be Careful for Nothing, 19a. 

Be Content, iii. 

Be Just and Fear Not, 17. 

Be Kind to Thyself, 168. 

Be Never Discouraged, 19. 

Be Not Weary, 180. 

Be of Good Cheer, 146. 

Be Still, 88. 

Be True Thyself, 26. 

Beautiful Things, 250. 

Beauty of Holiness, The, 220. 

Beggar's Revenge, The, 34. 

Begone, Unbelief, 185. 

Befieve Good Things of God, 180. 

Believer's Heritage, The, 206 

Best that I Can, The, 44. 

Better than Gold, 32. 

Better Things, 253. 

Better Trust, 198. 

Blessed Face, The, 245. 

Blessed Lesson, A, no. 



Blessed Thought of God, 226. 

Blessing, A, 78. 

Blessing in Prayer, A, 125. 

Blessing in Tears, A, 152. 

Blessings Near at Hand, in. 

Blessings of Prayer, 126. 

Blessings, The, 47. 

Blest is the Faith Divine and Strong, 181. 

Bravery, 18. 

Breathe on Me, 121. 

Bring Every Burden, 143. 

Bringing Our Sheaves with Us, 10 1. 

Broader Field, A, 57. 

Brotherhood, 70. 

Builder's Lesson, A, 259. 

Builders, The, 251. 

Building, 259. 

Burial of Moses, The, 36. 

By Doing Good We Live, 53 

Call of Jesus, The, 249. 

Calm, 90. 

Care Cast on God, 195. 

Care Thou for Me, 200. 

Cares and Days, 264. 

Careless Content, 106. 

Carpenter, The, 211. 

Cast Thy Burden on the Lord, 207. 

Celestial Surgeon, The, 151. 

Chambered Nautilus, The, 116. 

Charge, The, 1. 

Charioteers, The, 79. 

Charity Not Justice, 75. 

Cheerful Old Age, 268. 

Cheer Up, 174. 

Cherubic Pilgrim, The, 222. 

Choir Invisible, The, 51. 

Choose for Us, God, 196. 

Choose Thou, 83. 

Chosen Few, The, 5. 

Christ in the City, 76. 

Christ Our Example, 238. 

Christ's Sympathy, 234. 

Clear Vision, The, 141. 

Columbus, 5. 

Come to Me, 230. 

Come to Us, Lord, 231. 

Commit Thy Way, 172. 

Common Lot, The, 262. 

Common Offering, The, 163. 

Comparative Degree, The, 121. 

Compensation, 159. 

Confidence, 232. 

Confido et Conquiesco, 192. 

Consecrated Life, A, 82. 

Consider the Ravens, 199. 

Consolation, 155. 

Constant Care, 205. 

Content and Rich, 104. 



292 



INDEX TO TITLES 



293 



Content I Live, 104. 
Content with All, no. 
Contents of Piety, The, 130 
Contentment, 103. 
Contrast, A, 105. 
Courage, 15. 
Courage Defined, 17. 
Crossing the Bar, 273. 
Cry of the Soul, A, izr. 

Daily Bread, 219. 
Daily Course, The, 113. 
Daily Strength, 112. 
Dare to Do Right, 19. 
Dare You? 14. 
Dark Angel, The, 159. 
Day by Day. 117. 
Dearest Friend, The, 249. 
Death, 274. 
Death Bed, A, 275. 
Dedicated, 82. 

Defeated Yet Triumphant, 1. 
Defiance to Old Age, A, 267. 
Demand for Courage, 17. 
Demand for Men, 8. 
Denial, 125. 
Desert's Use, The, 265. 
Despondency Rebuked, 172. 
Devil is a Fool, The, 203. 
Difference, The, 108. 
Different Prayers, 129. 
Disappointment, 204. 
Divine Majesty, The, 211. 
Divine Peace, 90. 
Do and be Blest, 15. 
"Doe the Nexte Thynge," 42. 
Doing and Being, 262. 
Don't Take it to Heart, 147 
Doubting Nothing, 179. 
Dum Vivimus Vivamus, 261 
Duties, 48. 
Dwell Deep, 87. 

Easily Given, 62. 

East London, 234. 

Eleventh-Hour Laborers, The, 55. 

Elixir, The, 223. 

Emir Hassan, 37. 

Emmaus, 268. 

Enoch, 135. 

Enough, 109. 

Equanimity, 25. 

Esse Quam Videre, e$. 

Eternal Goodness, The, 177. 

Eternal Justice, 6. 

Evangelist, The, 43. 

Evening Hjmin, 206. 

Evening Praise, 144. 

Eventide, 226. 

Everlasting Memorial, The, 100. 

Ever with Thee, 228. 

Every Day, 152. 

Everjrwhere with Jesus, 248. 

Expecting and Knowing, 164. 

Eye of Faith, The, 179. 

Eyeservice, 221. 

Failure, 34. 

Failure and Success, 33. 



Fairest Lord Jesus, 249. 

Faith, 178. 

Faith in God, 179. 

Faith is the Victory, 184. 

Faithful, 255. 

Faithful Monk, The, 60. 

Fame and Duty, 28. 

Farther On, 173. 

Fear Not, 202. 

Finding AH in Jesus, 234. 

Finding Content, 112. 

Flowers without Fruit, 181. 

Following, 201. 

Following the Master, 56. 

For A' That, 24. 

For Divine Strength, 97. 

Forgiveness, 167. 

Formal Prayer, 126. 

For Strength We Ask, 53. 

Fortitude and Trial, 20. 

Free from Sin, 118. 

Friend and Foe, 263. 

Friend of Souls, 236. 

Fruition, 67. 

Fully Content, 109. 

Furnace and Hammer, 157. 

Gain of Loss, The, 157. 

Gentleman, A, 26. 

Giving and Taking, 58. 

Glorious Mom, The, 144. 

Glory of Failure, The, 30. 

Go Not Far from Me, 150. 

Go Right On Working, 46. 

Go Tell Jesus, 145. 

God a Fortress, 16. 

God Alone Loved, 87. 

God Enough, 114. 

God is Enough, 112. 

God is Everywhere, 82. 

God is Mine, 224. 

God Keeps His Own, 199. 

God Knoweth Best, 154. 

God Knows, 182, 190. 

God Knows All, 195. 

God Means Us to be Happy, 138. 

God Never Forsakes, 189. 

God Only, 81. 

God Save the People, 75. 

God's All-Embracmg Love, 164. 

God's Care, 204. 

God's Heroes, 12. 

God's Mercy, 165. 

God's Peace, 92. 

God's Presence, 223. 

God's Vengeance, 47. 

God's Voice, 181. 

God's Will, 210. 

God's Will be Done, 213. 

Golden Mean, The, 114. 

Good Great Man, The, 33. 

Gradatim, 115. 

Granted or Denied, 131. 

Great and Small, 212. 

Great Difference, A, 205. 

Great Man, A, 28. 

Happiest Heart, The, 113. 
Happy Any Way, 106. 



294 



INDEX TO TITLES 



Happy Warrior, The, 3. 

Harsh Judgments, 69. 

Have Charity, 68. 

Have Faith in God, 179. 

Have Hope, 171. 

"He Careth for Thee," 207. 

He Careth for You, 206. 

"He Doeth All Things Well," 147. 

He Fills All, 225. 

He Knoweth All, 200. 

He Leads Us On, 202. 

He Never Forgets, 201. 

Heart of God, The, 235. 

Heavenly Presence, The, 60. 

Heavier the Cross, 153. 

Help Thou My Unbelief, 133. 

Her Creed, 63. 

Here Am I, 80. 

Heritage, The, 107. 

Hero Gone, A, i. 

Heroism, 9. 

Hide Not Thy Heart, 25. 

Higher Law, The, 25. 

Higher Life, The, 29. 

Higher Privilege, The, 166. 

His Banner Over Me, 166. 

His Care, 208. 

His Chosen Ones, 231. 

His Monument, 35. 

His Ways, 159. 

Holy Habits, 260. 

Honor All Men, 70. 

Hour of Prayer, The, 123. 

Hours, The, 256. 

House by the Side of the Road, The, 66. 

How Did You Die? 5. 

How Doth Death Speak of Our Beloved ? 7 2 

How to Judge, 69. 

How We Learn, 153. 

Humble Heart, A, 98. 

Humility, 99. 

Hymn of the City, 76. 

I Am Content, 107. 

I Asked the Lord that I Might Grow, 151. 

I Can Trust, 188. 

I Do Not Ask, O Lord, 156. 

If I Him but Have, 230. 

If I Should Die To-night, 67. 

If the Lord Should Come, 229. 

If Thou Could'st Know, 154. 

If We Believed, 185. 

If We Could Only See, 59. 

If We Knew, 70. 

I in Thee and Thou in Me, 84. 

I Know Not if the Dark or Bright, 187. 

I Love Thy Will, 218. 

Imaginary Evils, 175. 

Immanence, 232. 

Immanuel's Land, 274. 

Indwelling, 118. 

Inevitable, The, i. 

Influence, 77. 

In Him Confiding, 193. 

In Myself, 25. 

Inner Calm, The, 93. 

Inquiry, The, .96. 

"Into Thy Hands," 80. 



Invitation to Prayer, An, 133. 

lo Victis, 30. 

I Pack My Trunk, 258. 

I Resolve, 25. 

I Shall Not Want, 194. 

Is Life Worth Living? 253. 

Is Your Lamp Bummg? 66. 

"It is More Blessed," 52. 

"It is Toward Evening," 245. 

It Might Have Been, no. 

It Passeth Knowledge, 239. 

I've Found a Joy in Sorrow, 240. 

"I Will Abide in Thine House," 204. 

I Will Not Seek, 97. 

I Will Trust, 187. 

I Would Live Longer, 269. 

I Wouldn't, III. 

Jesu, 241. 

Jesus All-Suflficient, 238. 

Tesus, I Love Thee, 240. 

fesus My God and My All, 242 

fesus on the Sea, 243. 

fesus Our Joy, 236. 

fesus Supreme, 238. 

fewel. The, 112. 

fohn and Jesus, 167. 

fudge Not, 68. 

fust as God Leads, 104. 

fust for To-day, 255. 
Just One Day, 256. 
Justice, 261. 
Justice Only, 46. 

Kept in Perfect Peace, 89. 
Kindness, 70. 
King of Love, The, 247. 
Kingdom of God, The, 164 
Knowledge and Wisdom, 95. 

Ladder of St. Augustine, The, 41. 

Lancashire Doxology, A, 142. 

La Rochelle, 153. 

Larger Hope, 'The, 172. 

Larger View, The 222. 

Last Prayer, A, 95. 

Last Wish, The, 79. 

Laus Deo, 100. 

Laus Mortis, 274. 

Lead On, O Lord, 122. 

Leaving All, 83. 

Length of Days, 254. 

Length of Life, The, 253. 

Let Us See Jesus, 243. 

Liberty, 44. 

Life, 276. 

Life and Death, 2. 

Life Hid with Christ, A, 134. 

Life I Seek, The, 71. 

Life's Mirror, 257. 

Light, 137. 

Listening for God, 229. 

Little Parable, A, 155. 

Little Talk with Jesus, A, 235. 

Lonely Service, 63. 

Longing, 119. 

Looking for Pearls, 73. 

Looking unto God, 178. 

Lord of Himself, 22. 



INDEX TO TITLES 


295 


Lord will Provide, The. 184. 


Noble Lives, 29. 




Lord's Appointment, The, 190. 


Noblesse Oblige, 10. 
Nobly Bom, The, 35. 




Lord's Leading, The, 182. 




Lord's Provision, The, 183. 


Not a Sound Invades the Stillness, 126 




Losing Side, The, 30. 


Not by Chance, 216. 
Not Knowing, 192. 




Love, 163. 




Love and Light, 168. 


Not Lost, 57. 




Love Counteth Not the Cost, 168. 


Not Mine, 98. 




Love — ^Joy, 242. 

Love of God, The, 164. 


Not Now, but Then, 268. 




Not Yet Prepared, 96. 




Love of Home, 168. 


Nothing to Wish or to Fear, 235. 




Love that Passeth Knowledge, The, 165. 


Now, 256. 




Love's Fulfilling, 163. 






Lowly Heart, A, 95. 
Loyalty, 44. 


for a Perfect Trust, 195. 




God of Truth, 81. 




Luther, 6. 


Jesus Christ, Grow Thou in Me, 117. 
Obscure Martyrs, 34. 




Madame Lofty, 108. 


Ode to Duty, 41. 




Made Perfect Through Suffering, 149. 
Make Haste, O Man! to Live, 260. 


Offering, The, 84. 




Old Latin Hymn, A, 277. 




Make Thy Way Mine, 197. 


Old Stoic, The, 23. 




Man, 227. 


Omnipresence, 221. 




Manna, iii. 


On Second Thought, 272. 




Man's a Man for A' That, A, 24. 


On the Eve of Departure, 269. 




Man with a Grudge, The, 78. 


On Thee My Heart is Resting, 85. 




Martha, 54. 


One Day's Service, 252. 




Martha or Mary, 53. 


One Path to Light, 59. 




Martyrs, The, 6. 


One Talent, 45. 




Mary of Bethany, 130. 


One Talent, The, 45. 




Master's Touch, 'The, 151. 


One Thing Needful, The, 177. 




Maxims, 32. 


Only, 61. 




Meaning of Prayer, 128. 


Only a Little, 64. 




Meekness of Moses, 100. 


Only Love, 167. 




Mencius, 37. 


Only One Way, 20. 
Only Solace, The, 155. 




Moment by Moment, 206. 




Moment in the Morning, A, 133. 


Only To-day, 83. 




Moral Cosmetics, 254. 


Open Thou Our Eyes, 227. 




More and More, 115. 


Opportunity, 261. 




More Holiness, 119. 


Opportunity Improved, 261. 




Morning, 255. 


Opportunity Renewed, 259. 




Morning Hymn, 80. 


Our Burden-Bearer, 137. 




Morning Star, The, 175. 


Our Heavenly Father, 225. 




Morning Thought, A, 267. 


Our Heroes, 10. 




My Cross, 154. 


Our Home Above, 270. 




My Guide, 183. 


Our Master, 233. 




My Heart is Fixed, 233. 


Our Rock, 247. 




My Heart is Resting, 89. 


Our Two Gifts, 276. 




My Lord and I, 237. 


Out of Touch, 131. 




My Prayer, 128. 
My Psalm, 197. 






Pass it On, 58. 




My Service, 58. 


Patience of Jesus, 241. 




"My Soul Doth Magnify the Lord," 120. 


Paul at Melita, 64. 




My Task, 51. 


Peace of God, The, 88. 




My Times are in Thy Hand, 189. 


Peaceable Fruit, 152. 




Mysterious Way, The, 203. 


Perfect Faith, A, 180. 
Perfect Peace, 90. 




Nearest Duty, The, 45. 


Perfect Through Suffering, 155. 




Never Say Fail, 19. 


Pessimist and Optimist, 146. 




New Era, The, 73. 


Petition, 124. 




New Every Morning, 173. 


Pharisee and Publican, 133. 




"New Logion," The, 62. 


Picture of a Happy Man, The, 139. 




No Cares, 195. 


Place with Him, A, 16. 




No Enemies, 18. 


Pluck, 20. 




No Fear, 190. 


Pluck Wins, 19. 




No Fears, 193. 


Poem of the Universe, The, 33. 




Nobility of Goodness, The, 30. 

Noble Army of Martyrs Praise Thee, 2. 

Noble Deed.s, 12. 


Power of Prayer, The, 129. 




Praise, 140. 




Praise Deprecated, 99. 





296 INDEX TO TITLES 


Praise Waiteth for Thee, 146. 


Service, 54. 


Pray Always, 135. 


Shadow of the Great Rock, The, 217. 


Prayer, 127. 


Shared, 74. 


Prayer, A, n8. 


Share Your Blessings, 63. 


Prayer for Strength, A, 136. 
Prayer its Own Answer, 130. 


She Brought her Box of Alabaster, 240. 


"Show Me Thy Face," 228. 


Prayer of Deeds, 127. 


Shrinking Prayer, A, 120. 


Prayer to the God of Nature, A, 116. 


"Silver Cord is Loosed," The, 273. 


Prayer's Grace, 218. 


Silver Lining, The, 173. 


Preciousness of Christ, 235. 


Simple Faith, 267. 


Presence, The, 226. 


Simple Trust, 194. 


Present Crisis, The, 18. 


Since First Thy Word Awaked My Heart, 


Present Saviour, A, 224. 


86. 


Pressing toward the Mark, 87. 


Single Stitch, A, 47. 


Proem, 262. 


Sit Still, 88. 


Progress, 174. 


Small Beginnings, 50. 


Promised Land — To-morrow, 170. 


Social Christianity, 75. 


Prospice (Look Forward), 270. 


Some Rules of Life, 258. 


Providence, 203. 


Something You Can Do, 61. 


Purpose True, A, 121. 


"vSometime," 191. 




Sometime, Somewhere, 124. 


Quiet Heart, A, 91. 


Song of a Heathen, The, 244. 


Quiet Mind, The, 89. 


Song of Love, A, 244. 




vSong of Low Degree, A, 96. 
Song of Solace, A, 160. 


Rabia, 218. 


Ready, 271. 


Song of Trust, A, 196. 


Recessional, 96. 


Song — Sermon, 159. 


Redeeming the Time, 254. 


Source of Power, The, 128. 


Red Planet Mars, 2. 


Sower, The, 156. 


Reformer, The, 2. 


Sowing Joy, 141. 
Sparrow, The, 200. 


Religion and Doctrine, 23. 


Religious Differences, 184. 


Speak Out, 77. 


Religious Infidels, 197. 


Spiritual Devotion, 127. 


Resignation, 149. 


"Splendor of God's Will, The," 215. 
Split Pearls, The, 166. 


Responsibility for Talents, 46. 


Rest, 92. 


Steps of Faith, The, 183. 
Still Hope! Still Act, 158. 


Resting in God, 187. 


Rest Where You Are 91. 


Strange Boon, A, 158. 


Retrospection, 252. 


Strength, 16. 


Reward of Faithfulness, 42. 


Strength for To-day, 255. 


Riches, 263. 

Riches and Power, log. 


vStronger Faith, A, 180. 


Struggle, The, 277. 


Ridiculous Optimist, The, 140. 
Right Must Win, The, 170. 


Submission, 219. 
Submission and Rest, 136. 


Ring, Happy Bells, 140. 


Submission to God, 216. 


Robert Browning's Message, 3. 


Summer and Winter, 54. 


Robin's Song, The, 148. 


Sunday, 127. 


Roundel, 220. 


Sure Refuge, The, 201. 


Round of the Wheel, The, 265. 


Sweet Content, 104. 


Rules for Daily Life, 225. 


Sweet Promises, 247. 




Sympathetic Love, 168. 


Sacrifice of the Will, The, 8r. 




Saintship, 227. 


Take Away Pain, 160. 


Saved to Serve, 52. 


Take Time to be Holy, 136. 


Scatter Sunshine, 141. 


Talhaim's Prayer, 137. 


Sealed, 242. 


Talking with God, 128. 


Secret of a Happy Day, The, 138. 


Teach Me the Truth, 8. 


Secret of His Presence, The, 221. 


Teach Me to Live, 260. 


Secret Place, The, 190. 


Tell Him So, 77. 


Secret Prayer, 124. 


"Tell Tesus," 246. 

Tell Me About the Master, 241. 


Seedtime, 61. 


Seeing Jesus, 239. 


Tenant, The, 275. 


Self, 10 1. 


Thalassa! Thalassa! 271. 


Self-examination, 228. 


Thanks, 144. 


Selfish Prayer, 134. 


Thanks for Pain, 139. 


Self-surrender, 86. 


Thanksgiving, 140. 


Sensitiveness, 15. 

Serve God and Be Cheerful, 143. 


That I May Soar, 120. 


There is No Death, 269. 



INDEX TO TITLES 



297 



They Shall Not Overflow, 158. 

Things I Miss, The, 106. 

Think Gently of the Erring, 68. 

Thou Knowest, 205. 

"Thou Maintainest My Lot," 151. 

Thou Sweet, Beloved Will of God, 211. 

Thought, A, 35. 

Thought of God, The, 224. 

Three Days, 261. 

Three Friends, The, 277. 

Three Lessons, 175. 

Three Stages of Piety, 218. 

Thy Allotment, 113. 

Thy Best, 34. 

Thy Brother, 71. 

"Thy Labor is Not in Vain," 55. 

Thy Loving Kindness, 143. 

Thy Will, 217. 

Thy Will Be Done, 216. 

Time for Prayer, The, 126. 

To a Reformer, 8. 

To-day, 256. 

To Faith, 185. 

Toil a Blessing, 6i. 

"To Know All is to Forgive All," 69. 

Too Much Self, 157. 

To Our Beloved, 275. 

To Thee, 245. 

To Thine Own Self Be True, 22. 

To Truth, 10. 

Touch, The, 236. 

Tree God Plants, The, 210. 

Trifles That Make Saints, 48. 

Triumph of the Martyrs, 11. 

Triurnphing in Others, 97. 

True Greatness, 37. 

True Hero, A, 13. 

True King, The, 31. 

True Prayer, 129. 

Truly Rich, The, 112. 

Trust, 191. 

Trust in God, 193. 

Trust in God and Do the Right, 18. 

Trusting God, 193. 

Truth, 8. 

Truth and Falsehood, 4. 

Turn from Self, 99. 

Two Angels, The, 213. 

Two Pictures, 103. 

Two Religions, The, 134. 

Two Worlds, The, 86. 

Uncharitableness Not Christian, 74. 

Unconquered, 23. 

Unfailing Friend, The, 244. 

Union with God, 82. 

Universal Prayer, The, 123. 

Unwasted Days, 48. 

Uphill, 272. 

Useful According to God's Will, 212. 



Valley of Silence, The, 132. 
Veiled Future, The, 174. 
Via Crucis, Via Lucis, 142. 
Victory, The, 12. 
Voice Calling, The, 272. 
Voice of Piety, The, 68. 

Wait on God, 185. 

Waiting, 171. 

Waking, 50. 

Waking Thoughts, 63. 

Walking with God, 131. 

Walking with Jesus, 116. 

Wanted, 22. 

Weapons, 78. 

We Defer Things, 264. 

We Give All, 86. 

Welcome the Shadows, 113. 

We Long to See Jesus, 246. 

We Shall Know, 183. 

We Will Praise Thee, 145. 

We Would See Jesus, 248. 

What Christ Said, 58. 

What Does it Matter? 33. 

What is Death? 272. 

What is Prayer? 

What Makes a Hero? 7. 

What Man is There of You? 125. 

What Might be Done, 74. 

What Pleaseth God, 215. 

What Redress, 167. 

What She Could, 48. 

When I Am Weak then Am I Strong, 97. 

When I Have Time, 257. 

When You Do an Act, 59. 

Who Bides His Time, 105. 

Wholly the Lord's, 79. 

Whom Have I in Heaven but Thee? 85. 

Why Do I Live? 250. 

Why Not? 242. 

Widlow's Oil, The, 167. 

Will, II. 

Will Divine, The, 209. 

Will of God, The, 209. 

Wind that Blows, that Wind is Best, The, 

108. 
Wisdom of Discipline, 188. 
Without and Within, 114. 
Without Haste and Without Rest, 250. 
With Self Dissatisfied, 157. 
Worker's Prayer, A, 135. 
Working with Christ, 62. 
Work Loyally, 44. 
Worldly Place, 12. 
Worth While, 11. 

"Your Heavenly Father Knoweth," 202. 
Your Mission, 59. 
Youth's Warning, 219. 

Zeal in Labor, 43. 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES 



A certain wise man deeply versed, 53. 

"A commonplace life," we say, 100. 

A faith that shines by night and day, 186. 

A gem which falls within the mire, 38. 

A governed heart, thinking, 232. 

A happy lot must sure be his, 259. 

A jewel is a jewel still, 40. 

A kindly act is a kernel sown, 78. 

A little bird I am, 82. 

A little bit of hope, 176. 

A little talk with Jesus, 235. 

A little word in kindness spoken, 70. 

"A man's a man," says Robert Bums, 24. 

A man's higher being is knowing, 122. 

A mind from every evil thought, 94. 

A mighty fortress is our God, 66. 

A moment in the morning, ere the cares, 133. 

A pilgrim, bound to Mecca, 114. 

A pious friend of Rabia one day, 265. 

A Sower went forth to sow, 156. 

A sprig of mint by the wayward brook, in. 

A stone makes not great rivers turbid grow, 

94. 
A tone of pride or petulance repressed, 48. 
A traveler through a dusty road, 50. 
A voice by Jordan's shore, 167. 
A woman sat by a hearthside place, 134. 
A worthy man of Paris town, 153. 
Abide with me, O Christ, 245. 
Abide with us, O wondrous Lord, 268. 
Abundance is the blessing of the wise, 263. 
Again, O God, the night shuts down, 144 
Ah, a man's reach should exceed, 40. 
Ah! don't be sorrowful, 268. 
Ah, God! I have not had thee, 177. 
Ah! grand is the world's work, 54. 
Ah, how skillful grows the hand, 164. 
Ah, yesi I would a phoenix be, 169. 
Ah, yes ! the task is hard, 46. 
"Allah, Allah!" cried the sick man, 130. 
"Allah!" was all night long, 130. 
All are architects of Fate, 251. 
All are but parts of one stupendous, 225. 
All as God wills, who, 197. 
All goeth but God's will, 217. 
All habits gather by unseen degrees, 266. 
All is of God! If he but wave, 213. 
All service ranks the same with God, 64. 
All's for the best; be sanguine, 181. 
Among so many can He care, 204. 
An age so blest that, by its side, 268. 
An angel came from the courts of gold, 47. 
An easy thing, O Power divine, 106. 
An old farm house with meadows wide, 103. 
And all is well, though faith and form, 186. 
"And do the hours step fast or slow, 48. 
And, for success, I ask no more, 35. 
And good may ever conquer ill, 232. 
And he drew near and talked with them, 227. 



And now we only ask to serve, 86. 

And only the Master shall praise us, 39. 

And see all sights from pole to pole, 266. 

And, since we needs must hunger, 262. 

And some innative weakness, 27. 

And they who do their souls no wrong, 93. 

Another day God gives me, 63. 

Anywhere with Jesus, 246. 

Are your sorrows hard to bear, 253. 

Around my path life's mysteries, 181. 

Around the man who seeks a noble end, 3. 

Art thou afraid his power shall fail, 184. 

Art thou in misery, brother? 264. 

Art thou Httle? Do thy little well, 45. 

Art thou weary, tender heart, 161. 

As a bird in meadows fair, 147. 

As by the light of opening day, 249. 

As flows the river calm and deep, 93. 

As God leads me will I go, 201. 

As I lay sick upon my bed, 275. 

As on a window late I cast mine eyes, 242. 

As running water cleanseth bodies, 94. 

As the bird trims her to the gale, 7. 

As yonder tower outstretches to the earth, 

185. 
Asked and unasked, thy heavenly gifts, 129. 
Aspire, break bounds, I say, 34. 
At cool of day with God I walk, 226. 
At end of love, at end of life, 271. 
At sixty-two life has begun, 268. 
At the midnight, in the silence, 269. 
At thirty man suspects himself, 263. 
Away, my needless fears, 189. 
Away! my unbelieving fear, 147. 

Banish far from me all I love, 155. 

"Be all at rest, my soul," 91. 

Be calm in arguing; for, 94. 

Be firm. One constant element in luck, 20. 

Be it health or be it leisure, 57. 

Be like the bird that, halting in her flight, 

198. 
Be never discouraged, 19. 
Be no imitator; freshly act thy part, 27. 
Be noble! and the nobleness, 40. 
Be not afraid to pray, 124. 
Be not too proud of good deeds, 46. 
Be not too ready to condemn, 102. 
Be patient; keep thy life work, 198. 
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining, 114. 
Be strong to hope, O heart, 16. 
Be thou a poor man and a just, 266. 
Be thou content; be still before, in. 
Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus, 238. 
Be trustful, be steadfast, 143. 
Be useful where thou livest, 64. 
Be with me, Lord, where'er, 122. 
Bear a lily in thy hand, 47. 
Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell, 189. 



298 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES 



299 



Beautiful faces are those that wear, 250. 
Because I hold it sinful to despond, 15. 
Because I seek thee not O seek thou me, 133. 
Before God's footstool, 34. 
Before the eyes of men let duty shine, 95. 
Before the monstrous wrong he sets him 

down, 2. 
Begin the day with God, 225. 
Begone, unbelief, my Saviour is near, 185. 
Behind him lay the gray Azores, 5. 
Being perplexed, I say, 128. 
Believe not each accusing tongue, 76. 
Beneath the tiger's jaw I heard, 147. 
Beside thy gracious hearth, 185. 
Better have failed in the high aim, 40. 
Better than grandeur, better than gold, 32. 
Better to have the poet's heart, 117. 
Better to smell the violet cool, 253. 
Better to stem with heart and hand, 8. 
Better trust all and be deceived, 198. 
Beware, exulting youth, 219. 
Blessed are they who die for God, 8. 
Blest is the faith divine and strong, 181. 
"Body, I pray you, let me go, 277. 
Both swords and guns are strong, 78. 
Bravely to do whate'er the time demands, 13. 
Break forth, my lips, in praise, 141. 
Breathe on me. Breath of, 121. 
Build a little fence of trust, 198. 
Bury thy sorrow, 145. 
But all God's angels come to us, 161. 
But God is never so far off, 223. 
But that thou art my wisdom, 219. 
But where will God be absent, 232. 
By all means use some time, 228. 
By Nebo's lonely mountain, 36. 
By thine own soul's law learn to live, 22. 

Calm me, my God, and keep me calm, 93. 

Calm Soul of all things, 93. 

Care Thou for me! Let me not care, 200. 

Catch, then, O catch the transient hour, 266. 

Christ wants the best, 98. 

Cleon has a million acres, 109. 

Come to me. Come to me, 230. 

Come to the morning prayer, 133. 

Come to us. Lord, as the day light comes, 231. 

Comes a message from above, 168. 

Commit thy way to God, 172. 

Content that God's decree, no. 

Could we with ink the ocean fill, 164. 

Couldst thou boast, O child, of weakness, 68. 

Count each affliction, whether light or grave, 

159- 
Courage, brother, do not slumber, 18. 

Dance, O my soul! 'tis God doth play, 208. 
Dare to be true; nothing can need a lie, 21. 
Dare to do right! Dare to be true, 19. 
Dare to think, though others frown, 15. 
Day by day the manna fell, 112. 
Dear is my friend, but my foe too, 263. 
Deep at the heart of all our pain, 210. 
Did you tackle that trouble, 5. 
Dig channels for the streams of love, 63. 
Diving, and finding no pearls, 266. 
Do I not love thee. Lord most high, 87. 
Do not I love thee, O my Lord, 249. 



Do thy duty; that is best, 49. 
Do thy little; do it well, 20. 
Does the road wind uphill, 272. 
Don't lose Courage ! Spirit brave, 105. 
Don't think your lot tne worst, 114. 
Don't you trouble trouble till, 202. 
Doubting Thomas and loving John, 14. 
Drop thy still dews of quietness, 93. 
Dwell deep! The little things, 87. 

Each moment holy is, for, 263. 
Earth's crammed with heaven, 231. 
Emir Hassan, of the prophet's race, 37. 
Encamped along the nills of light, 184. 
Enough to know that through the winter's 

frost, 78. 
"Even in a palace, life may be led well, 12. 
Ever, when tempted, make me see, 237. 
Every day is a fresh beginning, 173. 
Every hour that fleets so, 122. 
Everywhere with Jesus, 248. 
Eyeservice let me give, 221. 

Fair is the soul, rare is the soul, 181. 

Fairest Lord Jesus! 249. 

Faith fails; 'fhen in the, 178. » 

Faith, Hope and Love were questioned, 164. 

Faith is a grasping of Almighty power, 185 

Faithfully faithful to every trust, 49. 

Far better in its place the lowliest bird, 39. 

Far off thou art, but ever nigh, 231. 

Father, before thy footstool kneeling, 136. 

Father, hold Thou my hand, 197. 

Father, I know that all my, 103. 

Father, I scarcely dare to pray, 95. 

Father, in thy mysterious presence, 97. 

Father of all ! in every age, 123. 

Father, take not away the burden, 93. 

Fear death.? — to feel the fog in my throat, 

270. 
Fear him, ye saints, 220. 
Fearest the shadow? Keep thy trust, 274. 
Fill, brief or long, my granted years, 268. 
Find out what God would have you do, 49. 
Flower in the crannied wall, 102. 
Flung to the heedless winds, 6. 
For age is opportunity no less, 268. 
For all the evils under the sun, 144. 
For all the sins that cling to thee, 86. 
For I am 'ware it is the seed of act, 33. 
For, lo! in hidden deep accord, 169. 
For never land long lease of empire won, 40. 
For others' sake to make life sweet, 169. 
For some the narrow lane of must, 166. 
For strength we ask, 53. 
For what is age but youth's, 268. 
Forenoon and afternoon and, 258. 
Forever, from the hand that takes, 208. 
Forever in their Lord abiding, 190. 
Forget the past and live the present hour, 

256. 
Forgive us. Lord, our little faith, 177. 
Four things a man must learn to do, 263. 
Fret not, poor soul; while doubt and fear, 

192. 
From an old English parsonage, 42. 
From cellar unto attic all is clear, 226. 
From our ill-ordered hearts, 94. 



300 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES 



Get leave to work in this world, 64. 

Give! as the morning that flows out of 

heaven, 52. 
Give me heart touch with all that live, 39. 
Give me, O Lord, a heart of grace, 120. 
Give me this day a little work, 122. 
Give to the winds thy fears, 193. 
Give what thou canst, 108. 
Glory to God — to God! he saith, 158. 
God answers prayer, 135. 
God asks not. To what, 266. 
God gave me something very sweet, 65. 
God give us men! A time, 22. 
God gives each man one life, 72. 
God gives to man the power, 220. 
God has his best things for the few, 21. 
God holds the key of all unknown, 208. 
God is enough! thou, who in hope and fear, 

112. 
God is law, say the wise; O Soul, and let us 

rejoice, 232. 
God is near thee, Christian; cheer thee, 146. 
God knows — not I — the devious way, 182. 
God means us to be happy, 138. 
God moves in a mysterious, 203. 
God never would send you the darkness, 155. 
God sees me though I see him not, 208. 
God of our fathers, known, 96. 
God of the roadside weed, 116. 
God works in all things, 176. 
God's in his heaven, 214. 
God's spirit falls on me as dew, 222. 
Go, labor on; spend and be spent, 43. 
Go not far from me, O my Strength, 150. 
Go when the morning shineth, 135. 
Golden gleams of noonday fell, 60. 
Good name in man and woman, dear my 

lord, 38. 
Good striving Brings thriving, 94. 
Grant me, O Lord, thy merciful protection, 

137- 
Grant us, O God, in love to thee, 186. 
Grant us thy peace down from thy presence 

falling, 92. 
Great God, I ask thee for no meaner pelf, 1 20. 
Great Jehovah ! we will praise, 145. 
Great Master! teach us how to hope, 70, 
Great men grow greater, 37. 
Great truths are dearly bought, 153. 
Greatly begin! though thou have time, 35. 
Grow old along with me, 3. 

Habits are soon assumed, 266. 

Half feeling our own weakness, 97. 

Happy the man, and happy he alone, 262. 

Happy the man, of mortals happiest he, 103. 

Hark! the voice of Jesus calling, 61. 

Have faith in God! for he who reigns, 179. 

Have Hope ! it is the brightest star, 171. 

Have I learned, in whatsoever, no. 

Have you found your life distasteful, 182. 

Have you had a kindness shown, 58. 

He built a house, time laid it in the dust, 35. 

He cast his net at mom, 34. 

He did God's will, to him all one, 208. 

He doth good work whose heart can find, 65. 

He fails never, 93. 

He fails who climbs to power and place, 33. 



He fought a thousand glorious wars, 39. 

He growled at morning, noon, and night, 148. 

He has done the work of a true man, i. 

He has no enemies, you say? 18. 

He is brave whose tongue is silent, 30. 

He is one to whom Long patience, 102. 

He knows, he loves, he cares, 208. 

He leads us on by paths we did not know, 203. 

He liveth long who liveth well, 254. 

He makes no friend who never made a foe, 3 1 . 

He prayeth well who loveth well, 130. 

He sendeth sun, he sendeth shower, 214. 

He stood before the Sanhedrim, 23. 

He stood, the youth they called the Beautiful, 

37- 
He that feeds men serveth few. 20. 
He that holds fast the golden mean, 114. 
He that is down need fear no fall, 96. 
He that would free from malice, 40. 
He took them from me, one by one, 154. 
"He touched her hand, and the fever left her, 

236. 
He walked with God, by faith, in solitude, 

135- 
He was better to me than all my fears, 252. 
He who ascends to mountain tops, 38. 
He's true to God, who's true, 62. 
Hearts that are great beat never loud, 35. 
Heaven above is softer blue, 232. 
Heaven is not always angry, 162. 
Heaven is not reached by a single bound, 115. 
Heavier the cross the stronger faith, 153. 
Helmet and plume and saber, 30. 
Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, 130. 
Hide not thy talent in the earth, 45. 
High above fate I dwell, 22. 
High hopes that burned like stars, 170. 
His courtiers of the caliph crave, 166. 
His name yields the richest perfume, 235. 
Home they brought her warrior dead, 152. 
Honor and shame from no condition rise, 39. 
Hope, child, to-morrow and to-morrow still, 

176. 
Hope, Christian soul! in every stage, 176. 
How blest is he, though ever crossed, 139. 
How does the soul grow.' 263. 
How doth death speak of our beloved, 72. 
How far from here to heaven, 277. 
How gentle God's commands, 205. 
How happy is he bom and taught, 22. 
How many chatterers of a creed, 197. 
How seldom, friends, a good great man, 3^. 
"How shall I a habit break," 259. 
How we, poor players on life's stage, 134. 
How wretched is the man with honors 

crowned, 39. 
Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 39. 
However others act towards thee, 27. 
However the battle is ended, 20. 
Humble we must be if to heaven we go, 98. 
Humility, that low, sweet root, 100. 
Hushing every muttered murmur, no. 

I am but clay in thy hands, 84. 

I am content; I do not care, 106. 

I am content. In trumpet, 107. 

I am glad to think I am not bound, 187. 

I am Liberty — God's daughter, 44. 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES 



301 



am of sinfulness and sorrows fvdl, 183. 

am only a little sparrow, 200. 

am part of that Power, 208. 

am so weak, dear Lord, 109. 

am thine own, O Christ, 242. 

am with thee, my God, 228. 

asked for grace to lift me high, 159. 

asked the Lord that I might grow, 151. 

asked the Lord that I might worthier be, 56. 

asked the Lord to let me do, 58. 

bless thee, Lord, for sorrows sent, 149. 

bow my forehead to the dust, 177. 

bring my sins to thee, 245. 

cannot always see the way, 196. 

cannot choose ; I should have liked so much, 

53- 
'I cannot do much," said a little star, 44. 

cannot say, Beneath the pressure of life's 

cares, 213. 

cannot see, with my small human sight, 18S. 

cannot think but God must know, 97. 

could not find the little maid, 112. 

do not ask for any crown, 25. 

do not ask for earthly store, 179. 

do not ask, O Lord, that life, 156. 

do not ask that Thou shalt front the fray, 
21. 

do not know thy final will, 220. 

do not know whether my future lies, 199. 

do not know why sin abounds, 194. 

feel within me A peace, 94. 

find no foeman in the road but fear, 18. 

go to prove my soul, 264. 

have a Friend so precious, 237. 

have a life with Christ to live, 134. 

have a treasure which I prize, 89. 

have done at length with dreaming, 50. 
I have labored in vain," a preacher said, 55. 

have no answer, for myself or thee, 208. 

have seen the face of Jesus, 239. 

have thee every hour, 224. 

hear it often in the dark, 229. 

hear it singing, singing sweetly, 173. 

hold him great who, for love's sake, 32. 

hold it as a changeless law, 26. 

hold it true, whate'er befall, 162. 

hold it truth with him who sings, 162. 

hold that, since by death alone, 274. 

honor the man who is willing to sink, 2 1 . 

know no life divided, 190. 

know not, and I would not know, 109. 

know not if the dark or bright, 187. 

know not if 'twas wise or well, 74. 

know not the way I am going, 183. 

know not what shall befall me, 197. 

know not what the future holds, 191. 

know the Hand that is guiding me, 201. 

know this earth is not my sphere, 120. 

like the man who faces what he must, i. 

live for those who love me, 250. 
'11 not leave Jesus, 233. 
'11 sing you a lay ere I wing on my way, 148. 

look to Thee in every need, 178. 

love, and have some cause, 85. 

love my God, but with no love of mine, 131. 

love thy skies, thy sunny mists, 220. 

love thy will, O God, 218. 

made the cross myself whose weight, 155. 



met a child, and kissed it, 141. 

often say my prayers, 126. 

pray not that Men tremble, 102. 

pray thee. Lord, that when it comes to me, 
II. 

pray you, do not use this thing, 167. 

pray, with meek hands, 219. 

preached as never sure to preach again, 87. 

reach a duty yet I do it not, 48. 

said it in the meadow path, 74. 

said, "Let me walk in the fields," 58. 

saw a farmer plow his land, 263. 

say it over and over, 190. 

say to thee — do thou repeat, 164. 

see the right and I approve, 266. 

shall not want; in desert wilds, 194. 

sing the hymn of the conquered, 30. 

sit within my room and joy to find, 226. 

slept, and dreamed that life was beauty, 49. 

stand in the great Forever, 228. 

stand upon the Mount, 90. 

stand upon the summit of my life, 271. 

thank thee, Lord, for mine tmanswered 

prayers, 144. 

thank thee, Lord, that all my joy, 161 

think, if thou couldst know, 154. 
've found a joy in sorrow, 240. 
've learned to prize the, 39. 

walk down the Valley of Silence, 132. 

want so many, many, 125. 

welcome all "Thy sovereign will, 198. 

wonder if ever a song was, 96. 

worship thee, sweet will of God, 209. 

would be ready, Lord, 271. 

would not ask thee that my days, 98. 

would see Jesus. As I muse, 239. 
dlers all day about the market place, 55. 
dly as thou, in that old day, 174. 
f any little word of mine, 75. 
f every man's internal care, 114. 
f God is mine then present things, 224. 
f I could feel my hand, dear Lord, in thine, 

178. 
f I could live to God for just one day, 256. 
f I could only surely know, 206. 
f I could see a brother, 74. 
f I have faltered more or less, 151. 
f I Him but have, 230. 
f I knew you and you knew me, 69. 
f I should die to-night, 67. 
f I truly love the One, 164. 
f I were dead I think that you, 265. 
f I were told that I must die to-morrow, 214. 
f Jesus came to earth again, 234. 
f Jesus Christ is a man, 244. 
f life's pleasures cheer thee, 247. 
f no kindly thought or word, 54. 
f none were sick and none were sad, 114. 
f only he is mine, 238. 
f suddenly upon the street, 163. 
f the Lord should come in the morning, 229. 
f the weather is cold don't scold, 148. 
f the wren can cling to a spray, 198. 
f this little world to-night, 262. 
f thou art blest. Then let the sunshine, 102. 
f thou canst plan a noble deed, 21. 
f thou hast something bring thy goods, 27. 
f thou hast the gift of strength, 65. 



302 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES 



If to Jesus for relief, 200. 

If we believed we should, 185. 

If we knew the cares and sorrows, 70 

If we sit down at set of sun, 54. 

If washed in Jesus' blood, 249. 

If when I kneel to pray, 125. 

If you cannot on the ocean, 59. 

If you have a friend worth having, 77. 

If you have a word of cheer, 77. 

Immortal Love, forever full, 233. 

In a napkin smooth and white, 45. 

In a world where sorrow, 141. 

In all I think or speak or do, 122. 

In buds upon some Aaron's rod, 222. 

In full and glad surrender, 81. 

In heavenly love abiding, 90. 

In humbleness, O Lord, I ask, 96. 

In life's small things be resolute, 39. 

"In pastures green?" Not always, 160. 

In proud humility a pious man, 99. 

In silence mend what ills deform, 65. 

In some way or other, 183. 

In spite of sorrow, loss, and pain, 18. 

In the deed that no man knoweth, 102. 

In the floods of tribulation, 158. 

In the hush of April weather, 272. 

In the June twilight, 273. 

In the pleasant orchard closes, 161. 

In the secret of his presence, 221. 

In the still air the music, 151. 

In vain they smite me, 186. 

In wise proportion does a fond hand mingle, 

183. 
Into thy guiding hands, 80. 
Is it true, O Christ in, 161. 
Is life worth living? 253. 
Is the work difficult? 20. 
Is there for honest poverty, 24. 
Is thy cruse of comfort failing, 52. 
It becomes no man to nurse despair, 27. 
It is bad to have an empty purse, 261. 
It is coming! it is coming, 73. 
It is enough — Enough just to be good, 38. 
It is faith. The feeling, 183. 
It is Lucifer, The son, 220. 
It is no use to grumble and, 216. 
It is not death to die, 272. 
It is not mine to run, 98. 
It is not prayer. This clamor, 129. 
It is not the deed we do, 163. 
It is not the wall of stone without, 35 
It isn't the thing you do, 251. 
It is the evening hour, 206. 
It is worth while to live, 39. 
It matters little where I was born, ^^. 
It passeth knowledge, that dear love of thine, 

239- 
It singeth low in every heart, 275. 
It's wiser being good than bad, 176. 
It takes great strength to train, 9. 
It was not anything she said, 38. 
It was only a blossom, 61. 
It was only a sunny smile, 62. 
It were not hard, we think, 59. 

Jesu is in my heart, 241. 

Jesus calls us; o'er the tumult, 249. 

Jesus, I love thee, not because, 240. 



Jesus, I my cross have taken, 83. 

"Jesus saith," and His deep, 62. 

Jesus, still lead on, 122. 

fesus, the calm that fills my breast, 248. 

[esus, the very thought, 235. 

fesus, these eyes have never seen, 245. 

[esus, thou Joy of loving, 236. 

Judge not; the workings of, 68. 

"Judge the people by their actions," 69. 

Just as God leads me I would go, 104. 

Just to let thy Father do, 138. 

Just where you stand in the conflict, 44. 

Keep pure thy soul, 26. 

Keep pushing — 'tis wiser than sitting aside, 

19. 
Keep to the right, within and without, 23. 
Know well, my soul, God's hand controls, 

183. 
Knowing this, that never yet, 175. 
Knowing, what all experience serves to show, 

26. 
Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one. 



Labor with what zeal we will, 102. 

Laid on thine altar, O my Lord divine, 8 1 . 

Leave God to order all thy ways, 189. 

Led by kindlier hand than ours, no. 

Let come what will, I mean to bear, 39. 

Let him that loves his ease, 148. 

Let me not die before I've done for thee, 212. 

Let no one till his death Be called unhappy, 

269. 
Let not your heart be troubled, 198 
Let nothing disturb thee, 114. 
Let nothing make thee sad, 88. 
Let one more attest, 208. 
Let praise devote thy work, 100. 
Let the Loved One but smile, 231. 
Let thy sweet presence light my way, 224 
Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow, 175. 
Let us be content in work, 114. 
Let us believe That there, 171. 
Let us cry. All good things, 148. 
Let us gather up the sunbeams, 148. 
Life-embarked, out at sea, 277. 
Life! I know not what, 276. 
Life is a burden; bear it, 252. 
Life is too short to waste, 263. 
Life's burdens fall, its discords cease, 88. 
Like a river glorious is God's perfect peace, 

90. 
Like the star That shines afar, 255. 
Live while you live, the epicure would say, 

261. 
Lo here hath been dawning, 255. 
Look not beyond the stars for heaven, 65. 
Looking upward every, 117. 
Lord, according to thy word, 109. 
Lord and Father, great and holy, 167. 
Lord, for the erring thought, 140. 
Lord, for to-morrow and its, 255. 
Lord, I delight in Thee, 195. 
Lord, I have shut my door, 124. 
Lord, in the strength of grace, 81. 
Lord, let me not be too content, 120. 
Lord, it belongs not to my care, 106. 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES 



303 



Lord, make me quick to see, 121. 

Lord of all being, throned afar, 221. 

Lord, send thy light, 137. 

Lord, shall we grumble when thy flame, 159. 

Lord, speak to me, that I may speak, 135. 

Lord, what a change within us, 129. 

Lord, what is man, That thou, 159. 

Love that asketh love again, 165. 

Love took up the glass of time, 169. 

Make haste, O man ! to live, 260. 

Make my mortal dreams, 122. 

Man in his life hath three good friends, 277. 

Man judges from a partial view, 78. 

Man's plea to man is that he nevermore, 137. 

Man was not made for forms, 25. 

Manlike is it to fall into sin, 81. 

Master of human destinies am I, 261. 

May every soul that touches mine, 74. 

Mechanic soul, thou must not only do, 65. 

Men lose their ships, the, eager things, 205. 

Methought that in a solemn church, 63. 

More holiness give me, 119. 

More things are wrought by prayer, 135. 

Moses, the patriot fierce, became, 100. 

Mrs. Lofty keeps a carriage, 108. 

My business is not to remake myself, 40. 

My conscience is my crown, 104. 

My fairest child, I have no song to give you, 

3°- 
My God, how wonderful thou art, 225. 
My God, I heard this day, 227. 
My God, I thank thee who hast, 139. 
My God, I would not live, 186. 
My God, is any hour so sweet, 123. 
My God, my Father, while I stray, 213. 
My heart is resting, O my, 89. 
My Jesus, as thou wilt, 212. 
My mind to me a kingdom, 104. 
My prayer to the promise shall cling, 177. 
My proud foe at my hands, 137. 
My Saviour, on the word of truth, 116. 
My sins and follies. Lord, 99. 
My sorrows have not been so light, 162. 
My soul shall be a telescope, 120. 
My soul was stirred; I prayed, 45. 
My spirit on thy care, 192. 
My time is short enough at best, 27. 
"My times are in thy hand," 189. 
My whole though broken heart, 79. 
My will would like a life of ease, 80. 

Nanac the faithful, pausing once to pray, 229. 

Nay, all by Thee is ordered, 195. 

Nay, nay, do not tell me, 201. 

Nay, not for place, but for the right, 13. 

Nay, now if these things that you long to 

teach, 8. 
Nay, why should I fear Death, 274. 
Never a trial that He is not there, 206. 
Never give up! it is wiser and better, 176. 
Never go gloomily, man with a mind, 174. 
New erery morning is the love, 113. 
New words to speak, new thoughts to hear, 

65. 
No care can come where God doth guard, 

206. 
No chance has brought this ill, 216. 



No child of man may perish, 220. 

No coward soul is mine, 21. 

No endeavor is in vain, 39. 

No help! nay, it is not so, 208. 

No man is bom into the world, 65. 

No more my own. Lord Jesus, 84. 

No more with downcast eyes go faltering on, 

186. 
No one is so accursed by fate, 76. 
No service in itself is small, 61. 
None but one can harm you, 27. 
Nor love thy life, nor hate, 259. 
Not a brooklet floweth, 204. 
Not a dread cavern hoar, 127. 
Not a sound invades the, 126. 
Not always the path is, 143. 
Not at the battle front, 13. 
Not disabled in the combat, 156. 
Not I but Christ be honored, 240. 
Not in dumb resignation, 217. 
Not in each shell the diver brings, 159. 
Not in some cloistered cell, 71. 
Not in the clamor of the crowded street, 27. 
Not in the solitude Alone may man, 76. 
Not in our waking hours alone, 207. 
Not on the gory field of fame, 12. 
Not once or twice in our fair island story, 46. 
Not only in the cataract and the thunder, 

232. 
Not ours nobility of this world's giving, 10. 
Not so in haste, my heart, 185. 
Not to the man of dollars, 78. 
Not they alone who from the bitter strife, 2. 
Not to thy saints of old alone dost Thou, 179. 
Not what I am, O Lord, 165. 
Not when with self dissatisfied, 157. 
Nothing pays but God, 208. 

O be in God's clear world, 148. 

O, blessed is that man of whom, 36. 

O, block by block, with sore and sharp en- 
deavor, 161. 

O brothers! are ye asking, 78. 

O dwell in me, my Lord, 118. 

O foolish heart, be still! 194. 

O for a closer walk with man, 75. 

O for a faith that will not shrink, 180. 

O for a man to rise in me, 122. 

O for the peace of a perfect trust, 195. 

O Friend of souls ! how blest the time, 236. 

O give me the joy of living, 148. 

O God! I thank thee for each sight, 80. 

O God of truth, for whom alone, 121. 

O God of truth, whose living word, 81. 

O God, take the reins of my life, 79. 

O God! whose thoughts are brightest light, 
69. 

O humble me! I cannot hide the joy, 99. 

O how the thought of God attracts, 119. 

O it is hard to work for God, 170. 

O, I could go through all life's troubles, 10 r. 

O I would live longer, I gladly would stay, 
269. 

O Jesus Christ, grow thou in me, 117. 

O Jesus! Friend unfailing, 244. 

O Jesus, I have promised, 247. 

O Jesus! Jesus! dearest Lord, 242. 

O Lord! at Joseph's humble, 211. 



304 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES 



O Lord, how happy should we be, 195. 

"O Lord, my God," I oft have said, 154. 

O Lord, thy heavenly grace impart, 82. 

O Love divine, that stooped to share, 168. 

O Love is weak, 163. 

O Love that wilt not let me go, 234. 

O make me patient, Lord, 122. 

O Master, let me walk, 131. 

O matchless honor, all unsought, 62. 

O may I join the choir invisible, 51. 

O Name all other names above, 231. 

O, never from thy tempted heart, 20. 

O sad estate Of human wretchedness, 137. 

O sqiiare thyself for use, 122. 

O star of truth down shining, 10. 

O that mine eyes might closed be, 118. 

O the bitter shame and sorrow, 118. 

O Thou by long experience tried, 104. 

O thou so weary of thy self-denials, 157. 

O thou unpolished shaft, 96. 

O Thou who driest the mourner's tear, 155. 

O thou who sighest for a broader field, 5 7 . 

O Thou, whose bounty fills, 140. 

O tired worker, faltering on, 16. 

O to serve God for a day, 252. 

O trifling task so often done, 11; 2. 

O wad some power the giftie gie us, 102. 

O, well for him whose will is strong, 11. 

O who like thee, so calm, so bright, 238. 

O why and whither? 191. 

O words of golden music, 215. 

O work thy works in God, 232. 

O, yet we trust that somehow good, 172. 

Oh, be in God's clear world, 148. 

Of all the myriad moods, 119. * 

Oft when of God we ask, 158. 

Oft, when the Word is on me, 65. 

Often omateness goes with greatness, 39. 

On God for all events depend, 198. 

On parent knees, a naked new-bom child, 

267. 
On the red ramparts, 21. 
On thee my heart is resting, 85. 
On two days it steads not, 220. 
Once, in the flight of ages past, 262. 
Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands, 14. 
Once to every man and nation, 4. 
One by one thy duties wait thee, 39. 
One deed may mar a life, 18. 
One part, one little part, 99. 
One prayer I have — all prayers in one, 220. 
One stitch dropped as we weave, 47. 
One thing alone, dear Lord, 128. 
One thought I have — my ample creed, 226. 
One wept all night beside a sick man's bed, 

266. 
Only a seed — but it chanced, 64. 
Only a smile. Yes, only a smile, 131. 
Only for Jesus! Lord, keep it ever, 85. 
Only those are crowned and sainted, 62, 
Only to-day is mine, 83. 

Open the door of your hearts, my lads, 176. 
Open the shutters free and wide, 144. 
Others shall sing the song, 97. 
Our doubts are traitors, 186. 
Our Father, through the coming year, 190. 
Our toil is sweet with thankfulness, 161. 
Our yet unfinished story, 204. 



Out from thyself, thyself depart, 87. 
Out of the hardness of heart and will, 230. 
Out of the night that covers me, 23. 
Outwearied with the littleness and spite, 75. 

Pain's furnace heat within me quivers, 157. 
Patient, resigned and humble wills, 102. 
Paul and Silas in their prison, 141. 
Peace, perfect peace in this dark world of 

sin, 89. 
Peace upon peace, like wave upon wave, go. 
Perplext in faith, but pure in deeds, 180. 
Persuasion, friend, comes not by toil, 76. 
Pitch thy behaviour low, 97. 
Pleased in the sunshine, 147. 
Pleasures are like poppies spread, 263. 
Pluck wins! It always wins, ig. 
Pour forth the oil, pour boldly forth, 167. 
"Praise God, from whom all blessings flow," 

142. 
Praise not thy work, but let thy work praise 

thee, 102. 
Prayer is Innocence's friend, i;j2. 
Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, 127. 
Prune thou thy words, 18 r. 
Purer yet and purer, 115. 
Put pain from out the world, 162. 

Quiet from God! How beautiful, 230. 
Quiet, Lord, my fro ward heart, 91. 

Rabbi Jehosha had the skill, 220. 

Rabia, sick upon her bed, 218. 

Riches I hold in light esteem, 23. 

Ring out the grief that saps the mind, 140. 

Round holy Rabia's suffering, 218. 

Saint Augustine! well hast thou said, 41. 

Saint Dominic, the glory of the schools, 203. 

Saith the Lord, Vengeance is mine, 47. 

Saviour, who died for me, 86. 

Say, is your lamp burning, my brother, 66. 

Say not, the struggle naught availeth, 172. 

Says God: Who comes towards me, 207. 

Search thine own heart, 102. 

Secure in his prophetic strength, 64. 

Serene I fold my hands and wait, 171. 

Serve God and be cheerful, 143. 

She brought her box of, 240. 

She stood before a chosen few, 63. 

Ships that pass in the night, 266. 

Show me thy face, 228. 

Shut your mouth, and open your eyes, 261. 

Since all the riches of this world, 263. 

Since first thy word awaked my heart, 86. 

Since thy Father's arm sustains thee, 187. 

Sit still, my child, 88. 

Slightest actions often meet, 56. 

Slowly fashioned, link by link, 260. 

Small service is true service while it lasts, 65. 

So he died for his faith, 2. 

So live that when the mighty caravan, 266. 

So live that, when thy summons comes, #65. 

So long as life's hope-sparkle glows, 108. 

So much to do; so little done, 261. 

So nigh is grandeur to our dust, 49. 

So, when a great man dies, 77. 

Some evil upon Rabia fell, 157. 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES 



3^5 



Some murmur, when their sky is clear, io8. 
Some of your hurts you have cured, io6. 
Some souls there are beloved of God, 231. 
Somebody did a golden deed, 26. 
Sometimes a light surprises, 193. 
Sometime, when all life's lessons have been 

learned, 191. 
Somewhere I have read of an aged monk. 60. 
Sound an anthem in your sorrows, 145. 
Source of my life's refreshing springs, 151. 
Sow thou sorrow and thou shalt reap it, 141. 
Sow thou thy seed, 61. 

Speak thou the tmth. Let others fence, 17 
Speak to him, thou, for he hears, 232. 
Stainless soldier on the walls, 6. 
Stand upright, speak thy thought, 21. 
Stem daughter of the voice of God, 41. 
Still hopef still act! 158. 

Still raise for good the supplicating voice, 134. 
Still shines the light of holy lives, 67. 
Still, still with thee, 223. 
Still will we trust, 196. 
Stone walls do not a prison make, 24. 
Strength for to-day is all that we need, 114, 

Strong are the walls around me, 82. 
Such power there is in clear-eyed self- 
restraint, 165. 
Sunset and evening star, 273. 
Surrounded by unnumbered foes, 166. 
Sweet is the pleasure, 92. 
Sweet is the solace of thy love, 217. 
Sweet- voiced Hope, thy fine discourse, 7 1 . 

Take the joys and bear the, 268. 

Take thine own way with me, 210. 

Take time to be holy, 136. 

Take my life and let it be, 82. 

Talk Faith. The world is better off, 186. 

Talk happiness each chance you get, 148. 

Talk happiness. The world is sad enough, 

142. 
Talk not of wasted affection, 169. 
Teach me, dear Lord, what thou wouldst 

have me know, 125. 
Teach me, my God and King, 223. 
Teach me the truth, Lord, 8. 
Teach me to answer still, 208. 
Teach me to live! 'Tis easier far, 260. 
Tell me about the Master, 241. 
Tender-handed stroke a nettle, 21. 
That best portion of a good man's life, 65. 
That life is long which answers life's great 

end, 255. 
That love for one from which there doth not 

spring, 167. 
That man is great, and he alone, 28. 
That man may last, but never lives, 38. 
That plenty but reproaches me, 70. 
That thou mayst injure no man, 266. 
That which he knew he uttered, 6. 
The aim, if reached or not, 40. 
The best men doing their best, 65. 
The best will is our Father's will, 220. 
The bird let loose in Eastern skies, 118. 
The body sins not, 'tis the will, 186. 
The brave man is not he who feels no fear, 17. 
The camel at the close of day, 136. 



The chamber where the good man meets his 
fate, 277. 

The child leans on its parent's breast, 193. 

The childish smile is fair, 151. 

The chivalry that dares the right, 21. 

The clouds which rise with thunder, 196. 

The common problem, yours, mine, every- 
one's, 31. 

The cross on Golgotha can never save, 186. 

The crowd of cares, the weightiest cross, i86. 

The cry of man's anguish went up, 160. 

The day is long and the day is hard, 229. 

The dearest thing on earth to me, 247. 

The deed ye do is the prayer ye pray, 127. 

The deeds which selfish hearts approve, 42. 

The end's so near, 272. 

The eye with seeing is not filled, 38. 

The fountain of joy is fed by tears, 162. 

The glory is not in the task, 3 7 . 

The good are better made by ill, 162. 

The grave itself is but a covered bridge, 274. 

The hero is not fed on sweets, 11. 

The Holy Supper is kept indeed, 65. 

The homely words — how often read, 125. 

The hours are viewless angels, 256. 

The hours of rest are over, 256. 

The inner side of every cloud, 148. 

The kindly word unspoken, 78. 

The King of love my Shepherd is, 247. 

The king's proud favorite, 34. 

The knightly legend on thy shield, 25. 

The light of love is round his feet, 207. 

The lily's lips are pure and white, 264. 

The little sharp vexations, 137. 

The longer on this earth we live, 48. 

The look of sympathy, the gentle word, 57. 

The Lord our God is clothed, 211. 

The man is happy, Lord, 169. 

The man is thought a knave or fool, 6. 

The man who idly sits and thinks, 265. 

The Man who Loved the Names of Things, 95. 

The man whom God delights to bless, 161. 

The Master came one evening to the gate, 73. 

The mean of soul are sure, 40. 

The miller feeds the mill, 265. 

The mist denies the mountains, 176. 

The Moving Finger writes, 253. 

The night is mother of the day, 174. 

The path of sorrow, and that path alone, 159. 

The poem hangs on the berry bush, 266. 

The poem of the universe, ^2. 

The rich man's son inherits lands, 107. 

The sands of time are sinking, 274. 

The ship may sink, 276. 

The simple, silent, selfless man, 40. 

The sky is clouded, the rocks are bare, 211. 

The smallest bark on life's, 77. 

The Son of God goes forth to war, 5. 

The soul contains a window, 140. 

The star of the unconquered will, 2. 

The stars shall fade away, 251. 

The stars shine over the earth, 258. 

The stormy blast is strong, 94. 

The sun gives ever; so the earth, 56. 

The thought of God, the thought of thee, 224. 

The time for toil is past, 10 1. 

The time is short, 265. 

The toil of brain, or heart, or hand, 61. 



3o6 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES 



The twilight falls, the night is near, 200. 

The unpolished pearl can never shine, 155. 

The way to make thy son rich, 1 1 1. 

The wind that flows can, 210. 

The winds that once the Argo bore, 10. 

The wisest man could ask no more, 38. 

The woman singeth at her spinning wheel, 

127. 
The word is great, and no deed is greater, 2 1 . 
The world is full of beauty, 48. 
The world is growing better, 175. 
The world is wide in time and tide, 1S8. 
The world wants men, 8. 
Thee will I love, my strength, 87. 
Then draw we nearer day by day, 26. 
Then, fainting soul, arise and sing, 180. 
Then gently scan your brother man, 68. 
Then let us smile when skies are gray, 141. 
Then O my soul, be ne'er afraid, 198. 
There are deep things of God, 121. 
There are hearts which never falter, 29. 
There are hermit souls that live, withdrawn, 

66. 
There are in this loud, stunning tide, 231. 
There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave, 

^ 257- 

There are so many helpful things to do, 52. 

There are three lessons, 175. 

There are two words of light divine, 202. 

There is a jewel which no Indian mine, 112. 

There is a morning star, my soul, 175. 

There is a safe and secret place, 190. 

There is a tide in the affairs of men, 265. 

There is an ancient story told, 168. 

There is an eye that never sleeps, 128. 

There is never a day so dreary, 198. 

There is no death! the stars go down, 269. 

There is no duty patent, 21. 

There is no faith in seeing, 186. 

There is no flock, however watched and 

tended, 149. 
There is no great nor small, 212. 
There is no human being, 148. 
There is no love like the love of Jesus, 235. 
There is no sense, as I can see, 216. 
There is no vacant chair, 276. 
There is peace in power; the men who speak, 

92. 
There lives and works a soul in all, 223. 
There once was a man who bore a grudge, 78. 
There was of old a Moslem saint, 218. 
There was once a man who smiled, 140. 
There was a man who prayed, 131. 
There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 206. 
There's a wideness in God's mercy, 165. 
There's many a trouble, 147. 
There's never a day so sunny, 173. 
There's never a rose in all the world, 57. 
There's not a craving in the mind, 234. 
They are slaves who fear to speak, 17. 
They do me wrong who say I come no more, 

259- 
They have no place in storied page, 34. 
They never fail who die in a great cause, 1. 
They outtalked thee, hissed thee, tore thee, i . 
They're richer who diminish their desires, 112. 
They seemed to die on battle-field, 11. 
They stand, the regal mountains, 146. 



Think, and be careful, what thou art within, 

122. 
Think gently of the erring, 68. 
Think not alone to do right, 262. 
This above all: to thine own self be true, 27, 
This be my prayer, from, 122. 
This body is my house — it is not I, 27;. 
This for the day of life, 54. 
This I beheld, or dreamed it, 261. 
This is my creed, 25. 
This is the gospel of labor, 53. 
This is the highest learning, 99. 
This is the ship of pearl, 116. 
This one sits shivering in Fortune's smile, 

146. 
This world's no blot for us, 266. 
Thou broadenest out with every year, 119. 
Thou cam'st not to thy place, 113. 
Thou grace divine, encircling all, 164. 
Thou knowest. Lord, the, 205. 
Thou must be true thyself, 26. 
Thou shalt not rob me, thievish time, 267. 
Thou sweet, beloved will of God, 211. 
Thou sweet hand of God, 160. 
Thou that in life's crowded city, 46. 
Thou who art touched with, 207. 
Though life is made up of, 259. 
Though love repine, and reason chafe, 27. 
Though the mills of God grind slowly, 218. 
Though thy name be spread abroad, 40. 
Though time may dig the grave of creeds, 

179. 
Though troubles assail and dangers affright, 

184. 
Though trouble-tossed and torture-torn, 153. 
Though world on world in myriad myriads 

roll, 32. 
Thought is deeper than all, 265. 
Three centuries before the Christian age, 37. 
Three doors there are in, 129. 
Three men went out one summer night, 261. 
Through love to light, 168. 
Through night to light, 142. 
Through thee, meseems, the very rose, 231. 
Through wish, resolve, and act, 102. 
Thunder, lightning, fire, and rain, 198. 
Thus far the Lord hath led us, 182. 
Thy home is with the humble, Lord, 95. 
Thy life's a warfare, thou a soldier, 17. 
Thy name to me, thy nature grant, 118. 
Thy nature be my law, 121. 
Thy presence, Lord, the place doth fill, 232. 
Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die, 268. 
Thy voice is heard through rolling drum, 168. 
Thy way, not mine, O Lord, 83. 
Thy will, O God, is joy to me, 209. 
Time is indeed a precious boon, 253. 
Time to me this truth hath taught, 70. 
Time was I shrank from what was right, 15. 
'Tis a lifelong toil till our lump be leaven, 39. 
'Tis Being, and Doing, and Having, 148. 
'Tis finally, the man who, lifted high, 3. 
'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours, 

232. 
'Tis he whose every thought, 26. 
'Tis impious in a good man to be sad, 147. 
'Tis life whereof our nerves are scant, 266. 
'Tis not alone in the sunshine, 160. 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES 



307 



'Tis not the grapes of Canaan that repay, 186. 

'Tis not the wealth that makes a king, 3 1 . 

'Tis not what man does, 40. 

'Tis phrase absvtrd to call a villain great, 32. 

'Tis sorrow builds the shining ladder up, 161. 

'Tis the Almighty's gracious plan, 68. 

To a darning-needle once, 73. 

To be sincere. To look, 264. 

To be the thing we seem, 27. 

To change and change is life, 171. 

To do or not to do; to have, 79. 

To do the tasks of life, 12. 

To halls of heavenly truth, 169. 

To heaven approached a Sufi saint, 227. 

To keep my health, 25. 

To live by law, acting the law, 27. 

To live, to live, is life's great joy, 232. 

To long with all our longing powers, 131. 

To love some one more dearly, 51. 

To make rough places plain, 134. 

To me 'tis equal whether love ordain, 87. 

To play through life a perfect part, 29. 

To stretch my hand and touch him, 128. 

To thee, O dear, dear Saviour, 244. 

To those who prattle of despair, 264. 

To try each day his will to know, 143. 

Tost on a sea of troubles, 92. 

True happiness (if understood), 148. 

True love shall trust, but selfish love must 

die, 163. 
True wisdom is in leaning, 241. 
True worth is in being, not seeming, 38. 
"Trust is truer than our fears," 192. 
Trust to the Lord to hide thee, 263. 
Truth will prevail, 8. 
Truths that wake to perish never, 277. 
Truths would you teach, 36. 
'Twas August, and the fierce sun, 234. 
'Twas in the night the manna fell, 1 1 r. 
'Twere sweet indeed to close our eyes, 12. 
Two gifts God giveth, and he saith, 276. 
Two men toiled side by side, 105. 
Two went to pray? O, rather, 133. 
Two worlds are ours; 'tis only, 232. 

Unanswered yet the prayer your lips have 

pleaded, 124. 
Unblemished let me live, 40. 
Unheard, because our ears are dull, 232. 
Unless above himself he can, 13. 
Unveil, O Lord, and on us shine, 86. 
Up and away, like the dew of the morning. 



Veiled the future comes, 174. 

Vice is a monster of so hateful mien, 73. 

Vulgar souls surpass a rare one, 40. 

Walking along the shore one mom, 150. 

Walking with Peter, Christ, 43. 

We all acknowledge both thy power and love, 

203. 
We are building every day, 259. 
We are living, we are dwelling, 18. 
We are not angels, but we may, 231. 
We bless thee for thy peace, 94. 
We cannot kindle when we will, 7. 
We cannot make bargains for blisses, 146. 



We live in deeds, not years, 264. 

We look along the shining ways, 161. 

We look too far for blessings, 1 1 1. 

We may question with wand of science, 132. 

We must live through the weary winter, 161. 

We say, and we say, and we say, 264. 

We scatter seeds with careless hand, 67. 

We see not, know not; all our way, 216. 

We shape ourselves the joy or fear, 264. 

We take our share of fretting, 145. 

We thank thee, gracious Father, 270. 

We who have lost the battle, 30. 

We will speak on, 18. 

We would fill the hours with the sweetest 

things, 254. 
We would see Jesus — for the shadows 

lengthen, 243. 
We would see Jesus! we have longed to see 

him, 246. 
We would see Jesus when our hopes are 

brightest, 248. 
Wearing the white flower of a blameless life, 

40. 
Welcome the shadows; where they blackest 

are, 113. 
Well to suffer is divine, 20. 
What can it mean? Is it aught to him, 207. 
What grace, O Lord, and beauty shone, 241. 
What I am, what I am not, 25. 
What if some morning, when the stars are 

paling, 267. 
What imports Fasting or feasting, 264. 
What is life? 'Tis not to, 266. 
What is the use of worrying, 94. 
What is the world? A wandering maze, 59. 
What makes a hero? not success, not fame, 7. 
What matter will it be, O mortal man, 109. 
What might be done if men were wise, 74. 
What most you wish and long for, 197. 
What pleaseth God with joy receive, 215. 
What secret trouble stirs, 93. 
What shall I do lest life in silence pass, 28. 
What shall I pack up to carry, 258. 
What shall I sing for thee, 238. 
What shall thine "afterward" be, 152. 
What stronger breastplate than a heart un- 
tainted, 49. 
What though the dark close round, 258. 
What various hindrances we meet, 126. 
What weight of woe we owe to thee, 121. 
What will it matter in a little while, 64. 
Whate'er God wills, let, 216. 
Whate'er my God ordains is right, 188. 
Whatever dies, or is forgot, 55. 
Whatever road I take, it joins the street, 232. 
Whatever you are — be that, 27. 
When courage fails and, 44. 
When courting slumber, 231. 
When falls the hour of evil chance, 17. 
When God afflicts thee, think he hews a 

rugged stone, 162. 
When He who, sad and weary, 64. 
When I have time so many things I'll do, 257- 
When in the storm it seems to thee, 180. 
When is the time for prayer, 126. 
When it drizzles and drizzles, 114. 
When on my day of life the night is falling, 

270. 



3oi 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES 



When on the fragrant sandal tree, 167. 
When prayer dehghts thee least. 127. 
When, spurred by tasks vinceasing or undone, 

When success exalts thy lot, 32. 

When the storm of the mountains, 243. 

When the sun of joy is hidden, 176. 

When thou art fain to trace, 102. 

When thou hast thanked thy God, 160. 

When thou tumest away from all, 219. 

When thou wakest in the morning, 246. 

When thy heart with joy o'erflowing, 71. 

When wilt thou save the people, 75. 

When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean, 

88. 
Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, 12. 
Where cross the crowded ways of life, 76. 
Where'er I look one Face alone I see, 232. 
Whether we climb, whether we plod, 13. 
Whichever way the wind doth blow, 108. 
While I sought happiness she fled, 49. 
While thus to love he gave his days, 13. 
Who bides his time, and day by day, 105. 
Who counts himself as nobly bom, 35. 
Who does the best his circumstance allows, 

44. 
Who drives the horses of the sun, 113. 
Who gives, and hides the giving hand, 58. 
Who heeds not experience, 265. 
Who is as the Christian great, 37. 
Who learns and learns, and acts not, 255. 
Who liveth best? Not he whose sail, 180. 
Who loves, no law can ever bind, 169. 
Who ne'er has suffered, he has lived but half, 

161. 



Who never doubted never half believed, 186. 
Who seeks for heaven alone, 76. 
Whoever plants a leaf beneath the sod, 193. 
Why comes temptation but for men to meet, 

16. 
Why fret thee, soul, 94. 
Why not leave them all with Jesus, 242. 
Why wakes not life the desert bare and lone, 

265. 
Why win we not at once what we m prayer 

require, 137. 
With comrade Duty, in the dark, 31. 
With fame in just? proportion envy grows, 40. 
With patient course thy path of duty run. 

198. , ,. . , 

With silence only as their benediction, 156. 
With strength of righteous purpose, 196, 
Without haste and without rest, 250. 
Work for some good, be it ever so slowly, 65, 
Worry and Fret were two little men, 197. 
Wouldst thou from sorrow find a sweet relief, 

161. 
Wouldst thou go forth to bless, 65. 

Yes, Lord, one great eternal yes, 194. 
Yes, Lord. Yet some must, 54. 
Yes, we do differ when we most agree, 184 
Yet I argue not Against thy hand, 175. 
Yet, in the maddening maze of things, 197. 
Yet Love will dream and Faith will trust, 275. 
Yet sometimes glimmers on my sight, 173. 
Ye who would have your features florid, 254. 
You can never tell when you do an act, 59. 
You say, "Where goest thou?" 267. 
You will find that luck, 21. 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES IN APPENDIX 



A fire-mist and a planet, 283. 

A good man never dies, 283. 

A rose to the living is more, 287. 

Anew we pledge ourselves to Thee, 287. 

Be strong! We are not here to play, 278. 

But let my due feet never fail, 286. 

Canst thou see no beauty nigh? 287. 

Count that day really worse than lost, 287. 

Do you go to my school? 283. 

Father of mercies, thy children, 282. 

Feel glum? Keep mum, 287. 

For radiant health I praise not, 285. 

For the right against the wrong, 287. 

Give me my scallop-shell of quiet, 282. 

Give us men! strong and stalwart, 286. 

How shall we tell an angel, 282. 

I lay me down to sleep, 281. 

I lift my head and walk my ways, 281. 

I sent my soul through the Invisible, 287. 

I will not doubt though, 286. 

If by one word I help another, 287.^ 

" If I have eaten m)r morsel alone, 284. 

If I lay waste and wither up, 278. 

In those clear, piercing, piteous eyes. 280. 

It fortifies my soul to know, 280. ^_ 

It was only a glad "Good morning, 287. 



Lord, let me make this rule, 279. 

Love thyself last: cherish those hearts, 286. 

Milton! thou shouldst be living, 285. 
My darling went unto the seaside, 281. 

Never elated while one man's oppressed, 283. 
No distant Lord have I, 278. 

O Lord, I pray that for this day, 278. 
O Sentinel at the loose-swung door, 282. 
O, the little birds sang east, 287. 
O Thou who lovest not alone, 285. 
O, though oft depressed and lonely, 287. 

Sweet are the uses of adversity, 286. 

The gifts that to our breasts we fold, 287. 
The wounds I might have healed, 286. 
There's a craze among us mortals, 284. 

Weary of all this wordy strife, 279. 

What makes a man great? 284. 

What matter, friend, though you and I, 280. 

When over the fair fame of friend, 285. 

When the other firms show dizziness, 284. 

Wherever now a sorrow stands, 287. 

Why be afraid of Death, 279. 

Why do we cling to the skirts of sorrow? 286. 

You think them "out of reach," 281. 






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